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dostoyevsky-official · 16 days

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Last August, Lucy Letby, a thirty-three-year-old British nurse, was convicted of killing seven newborn babies and attempting to kill six others. Her murder trial, one of the longest in English history, lasted more than ten months and captivated the United Kingdom. The Guardian, which published more than a hundred stories about the case, called her “one of the most notorious female murderers of the last century.” The collective acceptance of her guilt was absolute. “She has thrown open the door to Hell,” the Daily Mail wrote, “and the stench of evil overwhelms us all.”

The case galvanized the British government. The Health Secretary immediately announced an inquiry to examine how Letby’s hospital had failed to protect babies. After Letby refused to attend her sentencing hearing, the Justice Secretary said that he’d work to change the law so that defendants would be required to go to court to be sentenced. Rishi Sunak, the Prime Minister, said, “It’s cowardly that people who commit such horrendous crimes do not face their victims.”

The public conversation rushed forward without much curiosity about an incongruous aspect of the story: Letby appeared to have been a psychologically healthy and happy person. She had many close friends. Her nursing colleagues spoke highly of her care and dedication. A detective with the Cheshire police, which led the investigation, said, “This is completely unprecedented in that there doesn’t seem to be anything to say” about why Letby would kill babies. “There isn’t really anything we have found in her background that’s anything other than normal.”

The judge in her case, James Goss, acknowledged that Letby appeared to have been a “very conscientious, hard working, knowledgeable, confident and professional nurse.” But he also said that she had embarked on a “calculated and cynical campaign of child murder,” and he sentenced her to life, making her only the fourth woman in U.K. history condemned to die in prison.

[...] The N.H.S. has a totemic status in the British psyche—it’s the “closest thing the English have to a religion,” as one politician has put it. One of the last remnants of the postwar social contract, it inspires loyalty and awe even as it has increasingly broken down, partly as a result of years of underfunding. In 2015, the infant-mortality rate in England and Wales rose for the first time in a century. A survey found that two-thirds of the country’s neonatal units did not have enough medical and nursing staff.

[...] A woman came to the hospital after her water broke. She was sent home and told to wait. More than twenty-four hours later, she noticed that the baby was making fewer movements inside her. “I was concerned for infection because I hadn’t been given any antibiotics,” she said later. She returned to the hospital, but she still wasn’t given antibiotics. She felt “forgotten by the staff, really,” she said. Sixty hours after her water broke, she had a C-section. The baby, a girl who was dusky and limp when she was born, should have been treated with antibiotics immediately, doctors later acknowledged, but nearly four hours passed before she was given the medication. The next night, the baby’s oxygen alarm went off. “Called Staff Nurse Letby to help,” a nurse wrote. The baby continued to deteriorate throughout the night and could not be revived. A pathologist found pneumonia in the baby’s lungs and wrote that the infection was likely present at birth.

[...] A team from the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health spent two days interviewing people at the Countess [Letby's hospital]. They found that nursing- and medical-staffing levels were inadequate. They also noted that the increased mortality rate in 2015 was not restricted to the neonatal unit. Stillbirths on the maternity ward were elevated, too. [...] The Royal College could find no obvious factors linking the deaths; the report noted that the circumstances on the unit were “not materially different from those which might be found in many other neonatal units within the UK.”

[...] In September, 2022, a month before Letby’s trial began, the Royal Statistical Society published a report titled “Healthcare Serial Killer or Coincidence?” The report had been prompted in part by concerns about two recent cases, one in Italy and one in the Netherlands, in which nurses had been wrongly convicted of murder largely because of a striking association between their shift patterns and the deaths on their wards. The society sent the report to both the Letby prosecution and the defense team. It detailed the dangers of drawing causal conclusions from improbable clusters of events. In the trial of the Dutch nurse, Lucia de Berk, a criminologist had calculated that there was a one-in-three-hundred-and-forty-two-million chance that the deaths were coincidental. But his methodology was faulty; when statisticians looked at the data, they found that the chances were closer to one in fifty.

[...] “Looking for a responsible human—this is what the police are good at,” Schafer [a law professor at the University of Edinburgh who studies the intersection of law and science] told me. “What is not in the police’s remit is finding a systemic problem in an organization like the National Health Service, after decades of underfunding, where you have overworked people cutting little corners with very vulnerable babies who are already in a risk category. It is much more satisfying to say there was a bad person, there was a criminal, than to deal with the outcome of government policy.”

[...] Several months into the trial, Richard Gill, an emeritus professor of mathematics at Leiden University, in the Netherlands, began writing online about his concerns regarding the case. Gill was one of the authors of the Royal Statistical Society report, and in 2006 he had testified before a committee tasked with determining whether to reopen the case of Lucia de Berk. England has strict contempt-of-court laws that prevent the publication of any material that could prejudice legal proceedings. Gill posted a link to a Web site, created by Sarrita Adams, a scientific consultant in California, that detailed flaws in the prosecution’s medical evidence. In July, a detective with the Cheshire police sent letters to Gill and Adams ordering them to stop writing about the case. “The publication of this material puts you at risk of ‘serious consequences’ (which include a sentence of imprisonment),” the letters said. “If you come within the jurisdiction of the court, you may be liable to arrest.”

Letby is housed in a privately run prison west of London, the largest correctional facility for women in Europe. Letters to prisoners are screened, and I don’t know if several letters that I sent ever reached her. One of her lawyers, Richard Thomas, who has represented her since early in the case, said that he would tell Letby that I had been in touch with him, but he ignored my request to share a message with her, instead reminding me of the contempt-of-court order. He told me, “I cannot give any comment on why you cannot communicate” with Letby. Lawyers in England can be sanctioned for making remarks that would undermine confidence in the judicial system. I sent Myers, Letby’s barrister, several messages in the course of nine months, and he always responded with some version of an apology—“the brevity of this response is not intended to be rude in any way”—before saying that he could not talk to me.

[...] Michael Hall, the defense expert, had expected to testify at the trial—he was prepared to point to flaws in the prosecution’s theory of air embolism and to undetected signs of illness in the babies—but he was never called. He was troubled that the trial largely excluded evidence about the treatment of the babies’ mothers; their medical care is inextricably linked to the health of their babies. In the past ten years, the U.K. has had four highly publicized maternity scandals, in which failures of care and supervision led to a large number of newborn deaths.

[...] Johnson, the prosecutor, pushed her to come up with her own explanation for each baby’s deterioration. Yet she wasn’t qualified to provide them. “In general, I don’t think a lot of the babies were cared for on the unit properly,” she offered. “I’m not a medical professional to know exactly what should and shouldn’t have happened with those babies.”

“Do you agree that if certain combinations of these children were attacked then unless there was more than one person attacking them, you have to be the attacker?” Johnson asked at one point.

“No.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No. I’ve not attacked any children.”

Johnson continued, “But if the jury conclude that a certain combination of children were actually attacked by someone, then the shift pattern gives us the answer as to who the attacker was, doesn’t it?”

“No, I don’t agree.”

“You don’t agree. Why don’t you agree?”

“Because just because I was on shift doesn’t mean that I have done anything.”

[...] After a few days of cross-examination, Letby seemed to shut down; she started frequently giving one-word answers, almost whispering. “I’m finding it quite hard to concentrate,” she said.

Johnson repeatedly accused her of lying. “You are a very calculating woman, aren’t you, Lucy Letby?” he said.

“No,” she replied.

He asked, “The reason you tell lies is to try to get sympathy from people, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You try to get attention from people, don’t you?”

“No.”

“In killing these children, you got quite a lot of attention, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t kill the children.”

[...] Toward the end of the trial, the court received an e-mail from someone who claimed to have overheard one of the jurors at a café saying that jurors had “already made up their minds about her case from the start.” Goss reviewed the complaint but ultimately allowed the juror to continue serving.

He instructed the twelve members of the jury that they could find Letby guilty even if they weren’t “sure of the precise harmful act” she’d committed. [...] The jury deliberated for thirteen days but could not reach a unanimous decision. In early August, one juror dropped out. A few days later, Goss told the jury that he would accept a 10–1 majority verdict.

[...] The public conversation about the case seemed to treat details about poor care on the unit as if they were irrelevant. In his closing statement, Johnson had accused the defense of “gaslighting” the jury by suggesting that the problem was the hospital, not Letby. Defending himself against the accusation, Myers told the jury, “It’s important I make it plain that in no way is this case about the N.H.S. in general.” He assured the jury, “We all feel strongly about the N.H.S. and we are protective of it.” It seemed easier to accept the idea of a sadistic “angel of death” than to look squarely at the fact that families who had trusted the N.H.S. had been betrayed, their faith misplaced.

Since the verdicts, there has been almost no room for critical reflection. At the end of September, a little more than a month after the trial ended, the prosecution announced that it would retry Letby on one of the attempted-murder charges, and a new round of reporting restrictions was promptly put in place. The contempt-of-court rules are intended to preserve the integrity of the legal proceedings, but they also have the effect of suppressing commentary that questions the state’s decisions. In October, The BMJ, the country’s leading medical journal, published a comment from a retired British doctor cautioning against a “fixed view of certainty that justice has been done.” In light of the new reporting restrictions, the journal removed the comment from its Web site, “for legal reasons.” At least six other editorials and comments, which did not question Letby’s guilt, remain on the site.

it looks like a british nurse was wrongfully convicted based on poor evidence and the tabloid media environment. this new yorker article is embargoed in the uk!

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galedekarios · 3 months

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i'm reading a new interview tim downie gave about gale and it offers some of tim's own headcanons about gale, as well as tim's thoughts and insights on gale's character:

Nerds & Beyond: I like that you mentioned that the game is full of rounded characters because they are, they all have different aspects that make them feel real. I adore that Gale specifically is so serious and studious, but at the same time he has this really playful side — he often jokes about how he was a mischievous youth, he encourages other people like Arabella to do so, he understands when The Dark Urge first mentions their violent thoughts. There is a lot of nuance and depth there. But the quality that I love with Gale most is that obviously he is very ill when we first meet him – not that we know immediately – and he’s dealing with a lot of chronic pain. I find him incredibly selfless because he takes that day-to-day head on to help the party, which is an aspect I feel continues to show throughout the three acts. What’s your favorite quality of Gale’s, or what did you take away from him? Tim Downie: It’s so interesting hearing you say that, because I had so many different feedbacks about what people take from the character and sometimes things really surprise you. It’s interesting hearing that such and such has taken that particular aspect, because there are broad things like “He’s funny,” and that’s quite nice, that’s a nice trait, though not one you necessarily get to see that much. It’s so interesting hearing other people’s views about what they take from Gale. The idea of dealing with chronic pain I found really interesting and an interesting subplot to play, and that was the great thing about doing something like this is that it is so unbelievably nuanced. You have so many layers that just keep going and going and going, as much as we all contain multitudes within ourselves. We all deal with these things, but only certain things pop up to the surface at any given point. What did I take from Gale, though? I liked his studiousness. I would imagine that he was probably bullied as a kid for it, and he was probably a bit of a joker because he was bullied, and he uses that as a defense. But an even bigger defense for him is “I now know stuff that I didn’t before,” and that’s a power. It’s very similar to when you are being bullied and you’re the funny one – that’s your power, that’s your thing. “I may not be able to hurt you in a traditional sense, but I can say things that will make you feel pain,” which is a very different thing because you physically can’t go after them. That’s the wonderful thing about acting and this character as well is being able to explore all these things that you might not have, that you might have gone, “I’m not gonna look at that again, I don’t want to deal with that,” and then it brings it up again and it’s like, “Oh, this is actually quite cathartic,” to re-explore these these moments of sorrow and loss and how you deal with grief and things like that and heartbreak and how you get over that. It’s not all just tears, you do try and make a joke of it.

i really like that they are addressing the topic of gale's chronic pain. it's something that doesn't get addressed often, not even in the game itself.

i also found his answer as to why people might connect to gale very nice:

Nerds & Beyond: Gale is the most popular origin character to play as. What is it about him that you think allows so many different players to connect with him to the depths the fandom has? Tim Downie: I really don’t know. I think you’d have to ask the players that, ‘cause I don’t know, to be quite honest with you. He’s a wizard, and who wouldn’t want to be a wizard at the end of the day? I always say the difference between wizards and sorcerers is that sorcerers just pretend – they just assume they know what they’re doing, but a wizard has really learned this trade. And so there’s that kind of weight of knowledge and learning, which I would love to play as and be for a length of time. I think it’s also the frailties. I like characters, and a lot of people do I’m assuming, that have flaws, otherwise you’ve made them completely unapproachable. To be completely superhuman or completely extraordinary at something then removes the humanity from it because it becomes like, “Well, that’s never gonna happen.” But when there’s a flaw, when there’s, “Oh, I’ve got that wrong, too,” or like, “My knees hurt” as you say, or “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I really don’t want to do this,” “You’re really annoying me, this is very annoying, could you please hurry up?” or “Stop licking the damn thing,” it’s always those moments that are fun because it shows what we’re all thinking at that point, it removes it from almost archetype and stereotype and it becomes human in a way.

gale is approachable and likeable, has flaws, but is genuinely nice. i think that very much sums up his character.

this bit here made me laugh:

Nerds & Beyond: When you’re talking about those different layers in the humanity building, I think one of the most important aspects in this game is the more “background” or passive dialogue, so dialogue that is prompted in the world and not in the cut scenes. For instance — the first time I made Gale sneak he immediately complained about his knees, and it was such a real moment where he was just like, “Oh, don’t make me do this. This is not what I’m here for, I’ve got bad knees and I’m not made for this.” Did you have any of those background lines or moments that stick out as being particularly fun to craft? Tim Downie: I remember the first time I ever had to do waiting, I found it infinitely interesting in so many ways. The idea that I did actually just have to wait and just actually, “Hmm…” Those little things I find really funny because they’re probably the closest to me that the character ever gets. His waiting mannerisms are kind of very English – slightly annoyed and I’m not going to show it to you though because we’re all being very nice, but I’ll do it with a huff and a slightly sarcastic, “Well, that’s great. Another 20 minutes. That’s great.” Those kinds of sentiments I found wonderful and incredibly fun, and funny, to do.

if you want to read the whole interview for yourself, you can do so here!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tim downie #ch: gale dekarios #actor: tim downie #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #please keep in mind that this is not canon and just tim sharing his thoughts #i'd just like to add that as a general disclaimer

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steveyockey · 10 months

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“Feel free to share your positive feelings about the film on Twitter after the screening,” said the usher introducing the London press preview screening of Barbie, Greta Gerwig’s Mattel-produced film. The embargo for reviews, however, would not be lifted until two days later, closer to the film’s release. The audience generally didn’t bat an eyelid and it wasn’t the first time my colleagues and I had heard such directives, yet we were left feeling censored: if they won’t allow for our negative reactions, why should they get our positive ones?

The purpose of this strategy barely needs specifying: in addition to the film’s omnipresent marketing campaign, positive reactions on social media were to seal the deal and ensure that the most dubious potential spectators would be persuaded to turn up to the cinema on the opening weekend, the most crucial days for a film’s box office success. The fact that the audience at this preview screening consisted mostly of influencers was another blatant marketing strategy, which would not have been as insulting were it not for the fact that it meant many film critics were unable to see the film before its release. The phenomenon occurred in other cities as well. A few days before the film’s release, Parisian writers were dumbfounded to see some colleagues sharing glowing takes on the film on Twitter, after being told there would be no advance screenings for any of the press. Moreover, what were presented as exclusive interviews with the cast turned out to be prerecorded and pre-approved by the studio. Ahead of its release, the film was to be seen only through pink-tinted glasses.

While it is customary for film studios to try to control the narrative by organising advance screenings if they believe in a film or avoiding them if they don’t, the methods employed for the release of Barbie were more extreme. They are symptomatic of a trend that has been evolving over the past few years and that concerns not only the film criticism profession, but culture at large. If all discussion of a film’s merits before release is left to influencers, whose driving ambition is to receive free merchandise by speaking well of the studio’s products, what can we expect the film landscape to look like? Where will engaging, challenging and, if not completely unbiased then at least impartial conversation about cinema take place, and how is the audience to think critically of what is being sold to it?

#READ THE REST but I think these first 3 paragraphs are best to get you interested in doing that :)#reading

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csuitebitches · 6 months

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Things I Have to do for My Sanity

1. Wake up at the first alarm - no snoozing and no going lying around in bed. Getting up straight away and head to the bathroom. It’s going to suck initially but you’ll get used to it in a few days.

2. Mental self care: 30 minute meditation, brain games mental math, reading, news. Knowledge is sexy and don’t deny yourself sexiness.

3. Daily review in my diary at the beginning and end of my day: what went well, what didn’t, what I need to accomplish to achieve my goals. This has tremendously helped my goals and keeping my motivation more consistent, especially at work. Analysing and correcting incremental changes creates long term success.

4. Cleaning up before bed - clothes, shoes, organising my bag, etc. I set a timer for 5 minutes and try to get as much done as possible.

5. Pick out my clothes the night before and steam iron them for the next day.

6. Face masks twice a week, a hair mask once a week, I scrub the soles of my feet with that foot scrubbing thingy once a week. Manicures every month because my nail beds are too sensitive to do it biweekly, iron supplements so that I’m not a moody bitch. Matching underwear to feel good about myself. Lavender spray on my pillow before sleeping so that I don’t get weird dreams.

7. Reading biographies and autobiographies. My mentor had suggested this to me and it’s amazing how literally I don’t have a single original experience - everything I’ve felt or mistakes I’ve made have already been done by someone else.

I’m going to curate a list of business books that I feel that have helped me the most recently.

8. I write a short essay everyday in the language I’m currently learning. I also end my day by talking about my day for at least 2 minutes in that language and I record it in voice memos to keep a track of my progress. I want to be fluent to a level where I can think in this language.

✨

I don’t generally share a lot about my personal life - none of you know my name or where I’m based and I feel comfortable doing that. But I do want to start giving out more insights to what I’m doing personally in my career - the good, the bad, the ugly.

Being self aware and honest to myself has helped me improve a lot. I know that shame is my Achilles heel, so now I’m reading books to combat that. I’ve caved in and decided to try therapy for a bit to see if what I’m doing is useful or not. My first session is tomorrow. Staying disciplined was my initial hurdle but the systems I’ve set (waking up early + habit stacking) have helped me slowly overcome that.

Work side, I’ve started establishing myself publicly more. I don’t want to reveal too much about what I do exactly but the good news is that our biggest competitor has noticed my progress (a former employee of that company came to us for an interview and directly asked our top management about me). It’s been 4 months that I’ve been working here but I know that next year I really have to swing the bat and hit a home run. I’ve decided to work on the field more and less in the office to really understand people’s needs and create unique solutions.

The daily/weekly/quarterly diary is definitely credited to my recent wins. That’s the biggest change I’ve made in my routine and i can already see that it’s working well. I’m going to continue refining and implementing that method.

Recent work methods I’ve decided to start working on (I’m not required to do these but I do it for my growth):

1. I’ve started studying popular companies’ business and revenue models in detail. Everything is adoptable and adaptable, you just have to figure out how to tweak something for your company’s clients and needs. Now I’ve decided that I want to keep a track of our competitors, their business models, their owners names, pricing strategy, their target audience etc etc on an excel sheet so that I’m aware with what’s happening in the market.

2. I’ve started making client profiles. Every time I meet a client, I note down their name, the company name, what they were like, anything specific they seemed to like or want, how much they had paid us for a service, what their paying capacity could be, etc.

#c suite #powerful woman #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #getting your life together #balance #to do #to do list

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feral-ballad · 2 months

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“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.

This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.

During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.

But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.

This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.

My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.

This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.

This is all that is left of that picture now.

I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.

I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.

I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?

I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,

Help.

I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.

It should be in your knowledge that:

It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.

Thank you.”

#kindly read this !!#please help nour in any way you can #if you can’t donate then at least ask your friends & family to share & donate #it will count as something #palestine #gaza #free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #🇵🇸#ethnic cleansing #genocide

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pseudowho · 1 month

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Kingsman!AU: Galahad/Nanami Kento

You become the latest Kingsman...and the man who sponsored you is so much more than the gentleman he presents himself as.

Warnings: Best if you've seen the Kingsman films! 18+, MDNI, soft!Dom Nanami, SecretAgent!AU

A little series of smutty drabbles...also planned, Higuruma, perhaps others, for now.

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It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the strangest job interview you had ever had.

Handcuffed, in an East London Police interview room, after assaulting five (...six? Seven?) police officers at an anti-government protest, you were scruffy but unharmed. The blood on your hands was not your own. There was a high flush on your cheeks, ripped clothes casting an indifferent, messy disdain to the situation you found yourself in.

There was a knock at the door, three brisk taps. You did not answer-- a pause. Three further raps at the door.

"...come in?" You asked. The door opened a crack. No further advancement.

"...may I?" A voice, velvet smooth and low, asking your permission.

"I...dont see why it would be my choice," you offered, stretching your hands against the cold metal of your handcuffs.

The door opened slowly, filled by a broad, tall man, blond and outstandingly handsome, with neither a hair nor thread out of place in his Savile Row suit. Over his arm rested a neatly folded overcoat, and a glossy-handled men's umbrella. His hat never graced his head indoors, and was, as such, clasped in his hand. He raised one fine eyebrow at you, his expression unreadable.

"It would be ill-mannered of me to consider it anyone's choice other than yours," he offered coolly, sitting opposite you, "considering you are the only occupant of the room." A moment of silence, again, as you regarded each other.

"Are you...my lawyer?" The man's nostrils flared slightly in suppressed mirth.

"Good heavens, no. No, I have come with a job opportunity." You blinked, certain you had heard wrong, while he continued, "I saw your performance, on my way to work, and I must say I was rather impressed. Seven officers, in under a minute. All incapacitated. Outstanding. And you're untrained, too. And, you did so well at University-- first class honours, correct?"

"Who the hell are you?" You spat, bristling under the man's casual knowledge of your life. The station's assistant looked awkwardly between the two of you as he dropped off two chipped police-issue teacups and saucers of anemic-looking tea. The blond man took the cup and saucer so gracefully, considering the enormity of his hands.

"Ah...quite right. I haven't introduced myself. Nanami Kento-- it's a pleasure to meet you."

You faltered again under his icy regard. Nanami took a sip of his tea. He paused, looking down at it with a hint of despair, before placing it down and delicately clearing his throat.

"...delicious," he lied.

"Are you...MI5?" A brief smile from Nanami, in response. He reached for something in his pocket.

"No," he responded, clipped, "we are not. But, we are in service to King and Country, and we are the sort of agency who punch up, instead of down. And...we find ourselves one member short."

Nanami slipped a thick, embossed coin over the desk to you; a circle, with a sideways "K". Nanami stood up, abruptly, inclining his head to you.

"All charges against you have been dropped. Your interview will commence, at..." Nanami looked at his watch, "...five o'clock this afternoon, should you wish to accept. If you press that coin for five seconds, my associate should send you the details."

You sat, stunned into silence, with the coin in your hands. Nanami Kento looked to you with twinkling eyes, at the door. You felt the twist of fate in your belly, and the pull as Nanami Kento walked it away with him.

"Good day to you. The pleasure was all mine."

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It had taken you over an hour to walk from Whitechapel to the Savile Row address. As bedraggled as you were, you passed through the bustling gentry and street performers of Covent Garden, skirting past the Savoy...before reaching the hushed, golden backlit glow of an exquisite Tailors shop. Letters were embossed upon the windowpane, glimmering gold on a backdrop of finery.

Kingsman.

A tinkling bell; an incongruous stranger, entering an unfamiliar domain. A familiar stranger, strong and smiling, upon the couch. Your breath hitched before you spoke.

"...you're here." Nanami folded his newspaper, standing up, before welcoming you to a changing room, that was not a changing room.

"You're late," he whispered against your ear, as the ground under London sank beneath your feet.

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"...that's mad." You stood in front of a glass window, somewhere far beneath Surrey, gazing in wonderment upon an aircraft hangar full of billions of pounds worth of mercenary equipment. Nanami chuckled beside you. You missed the almost fond sideways glance he passed you.

"I thought the same," he hummed, "when I was brought here, for the first time. I thought someone was playing some tremendous joke, for all the world but me." You were silent, dry-mouthed and swallowing.

"Tell me something..." you insisted, your palm pressed flat against the glass.

"...anything," Nanami reassured, soft and sincere.

"If I pass this-- this test," you whispered, turning to him, "will I get to work with you?"

Nanami smiled, leaning upon the handle of his umbrella, one leg crossed upon the tip of his toes behind the other.

"I'm counting on it."

Another man, tall and lithe, with inky black hair and a hooked nose, arrived with a clipboard. He offered you both a lopsided smile-- "Galahad-- good to see you, my friend"-- white sleeves rolled up against a tailored waistcoat--

-- a rich, Scottish brogue--

"...are you ready to begin?"

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Not only had you passed these months and months of bizarre, deadly tests...you had excelled.

Nanami had remained, always, at arms' length...a distant advisor. An odd, gentle promise. He could not offer any tangible advice, and you could see him itching to, at points.

It was down to the final two; you, and some Cambridge yuppy who could trace his family lineage back to the Battle of Hastings.

You stepped through the dormitories, late at night before the final test, your German Shepherd bounding ahead to sit diligently at the foot of your bed.

You felt a strong arm loop around your waist, and a hand over your mouth. A familiar cologne that made your stomach clench. You stood, pressed against his clipped, firm body, tucked into a camera's blindspot.

"Listen to me," he hissed in your ear, "Do you trust me?"

You nodded, not hesitating for a moment. Nanami's belly flipped to feel your hot little breaths around his hand.

"Good...shoot the fucking dog." You squeaked, trying to turn to him. He pinned you flush against the wall. His chest rumbled against your back.

"Trust me. Shoot the dog."

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You shot first, without a moment of hesitation. Your opponent returned to Cambridge. You became a Kingsman. Both dogs survived the trial.

The hamper that Galahad, your new partner, sent to your home, was nothing short of the finest luxury.

"To my Very Best Bet", read the lovingly annotated card. You brushed it against your lips, wishing it was his fingers instead.

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The wallet was a supple brown leather, smooth and warm. You knew it belonged to Galahad, from the faint smoky cologne that lingered upon its skin. Merlin gave you Galahad's address. You missed the knowing smile Merlin also gave you.

Your stomach flipped in your belly, all the way through Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. You passed beneath trees hundreds of years older than the establishment for which you now worked, treading upon the footsteps of Kings and Queens.

The first fresh flakes of snow kissed upon your lips, by the time you turned to the towering white grandeur of Kensington, very much not where you were from. You were freezing, your little hands clenched in your pockets, but hot with anticipation.

Reaching a fine, tall townhouse, all Georgian architectural triumph, you pushed through the black metal gate, rising up white stone steps. You hesitated only briefly before tapping the door, heavy, and gilded forest green.

"--just a minute-- please excuse me--...oh. Hello."

Galahad stood at the door, as...relaxed as you had ever seen him. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, and his waistcoat hung similarly open, with tie tails trailing down his chest. With his sleeves rolled up, and a pinstriped apron tied round his waist, you swore you almost saw him blush.

"...to what do I owe the pleasure?" He breathed out, finally. The apples of your cheeks, pink with the cold, dimpled under your smile. You reached out to Galahad, his wallet clasped in your hand.

"You forgot something," you offered. His hand reached out immediately, a goodness, thank you, you shouldn't have upon his lips, before your cold little fingers grasped under his own.

"You are miles from home," he rumbled, chastising, "and you are freezing cold." You tipped on your heels on the doorstep, placating him with a finger to your lips, and a glint in your eye. You moved to go down the steps, but your fingers remained clasped in his.

"Where are my manners? You should come in...of course."

"Galahad, don't feel oblig--"

"Kento, please," he ushered you inside, a hand ghosting over the small of your back, "if we're going to share dinner, we should not pretend to be strangers."

Kento's house bore all the opulent gloss of its noble history, with fine black and white checkered tile flooring, and twisting dark oak bannisters carrying the high staircase away from you. A receiving room beside you, bigger than your whole home, bloomed beneath the sultry flicker of a fire, the only source of light in the room. The kitchen lights spilled inwards, a herby bourginon aroma drawing you in.

You slipped your coat off your shoulders, and blushed, as Kento stood behind you to receive it. His heart pounded under the effort of containing his thrill to have you in his home. The thought of being alone with him, like this, had occupied your mind at night, for so many months.

"Sit, please," Kento insisted, heading to his drinks cabinet. Two slim, hazel eyes darted to you in question; "...can I tempt you?"

You settled on the sofa, antique, and likely much older than you; "Ah...wine?" Kento smiled, heading over to you with a bottle in his grasp, and two slim-necked glasses between his fingers.

You shared the bottle-- dinner was forgotten, cooking slowly on the back burner. You felt yourself becoming supple, warmed by the fire, the wine and the company. Within just a few hours, you and Kento laughed together, both liquor-dishevelled, hands brushing forearms on the back of the sofa. His calloused fingertips were electric against the inside of your wrist.

"You really were, you know," Kento hummed, placing down his unfinished glass of wine, "my best bet. The best gamble I...I ever made." You didn't know how you had ended up drawn so closely to him. Your legs tangled in his, head radiating from his thighs into yours. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you gently, insistently, closer to him.

"I don't normally do this," Kento bargained with himself, whispering against you, his tongue swiping out to dampen your plush lips, "it isn't very-- I really shouldn't, I-- dinner first, at least--" You couldn't help but drown under him, silent in the pools of his dilated pupils as he pressed you to lay back on the sofa, climbing over you, and trapping you beneath him.

"...can I tell you a secret?" Kento murmured against your neck, melting you under his lips and tongue. His hand moved down to undo the buttons of your silk blouse. You nodded, feeling him shiver as you did the same to his shirt.

"...I left my wallet behind on purpose," he rumbled, predatory. The tension snapped. His lips crashed to yours, with Kento groaning into your mouth, tongue trembling against yours. Ripping at the buttons of your blouse, his gentlemanly self-restraint was all but abandoned.

Stripping you, freeing your breasts with bitten-back growls and murmurs, Kento rolled you onto the Persian rug in front of the fire, crowding over you and taking one breast between his lips, licking your nipple into his mouth as his enormous hand pawed at the other.

"--beautiful...beautiful, you know that? Always thought...if you hadn't made it in...I'd have brought you home anyway..."

"Ken--Kento, I--" You broke off into breathy, high moans as Kento's hand slipped down, clutching at your pussy beneath your skirt. His hand scraped the lace edges of your stockings, his breaths frantic and panting with hurry.

"Say my name...again," he panted, strong fingers cupping your sex, moving to massage you, desperate need radiating through his hand. Kento pressed hard enough to massage your clit through the lips of your pussy, you mewled, squirming under him as he growled, "Again. Say my name."

"Kento," you squeaked. Your voice seemed to make Kento frantic, and he pulled off your skirt, your stockings, your underwear, until you were suddenly, blissfully bare beneath him. He knelt, still fully clothed in front of the firelight. His barrelled chest rose and fell, a high blush across his sharp cheekbones.

"This isn't...how a gentleman behaves," you gasped, one arm draped over your eyes. You heard Kento chuckle, cracking his knuckles above your prone, trembling curves. You heard the wolfish grin in his voice.

"Oh yes it fucking is."

One of his hands draped between your breasts, running down your chest and belly, to graze fingertips over your mound. His eyes flicked up to yours again, dark, hungry and questioning. You floated, somewhere both above and beneath him.

"Anything...anything you want," you keened, "whatever you want." Something tightened in Kento's jaw. His fingers trailed lower, grazing your plush lips again, dipping beneath to stroke up and down the slick length between your entrance and clit.

"...what a dangerous thing to say, to a man like me...I don't get treats like you often." Kento pressed two fingers slowly into your clenching heat, eyes rolling back with a fractured moan, gripping you to him by the hip. His cock strained against his trousers, and he moved lazily to unzip himself, shaking with self-restraint. He could not bear the way you twisted and squirmed, to feel his thick fingers fucking into you.

"...good girl...how does it feel? As good as your own? Did you touch yourself, like this, when you dreamt about me?" You could only nod in response, moaning and reaching down to clutch his wrist. His fingers curled upwards towards your soft sensitive spot, buried into you up to his knuckles, and swirling his fingertips over the spongy patch. You sobbed into his touch and he folded over you, shushing, pressing kisses to your temples.

"It's alright, darling...I felt it too...I'll show you. How I touched myself...thinking about you." Kento shuddered against your neck, his fingers still working magic into your belly. His cock flopped heavy into his hand, thick, long, and Kento felt so touch-starved as he closed his eyes, raising his thumb to stroke around your clit, imagining it was his weeping cockhead.

He shushed you again, chasing you up the rug as your pleasure built, heat surging through your thighs and belly. Kento couldn't help but fuck into his own fist, lubricated by his pre-cum, overheating with the need to sink himself inside you, and paint you white with his seed. He cracked his neck from side to side. Doubling down, his fingers picked up speed, pressing your clit until you writhed, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.

"That's it...that's it...let it happen," Kento whispered into your neck, still fucking into his fist against your belly as you climaxed, hands tangled in his mussed hair, burning under the weight of him. His fingers fucked you through the haze of pleasure, nose stroking into your hair, whispering his praises against your ears; "...so proud of you...such a good job...so proud of you, my little gamble..."

Your thighs threatened to flop to the sides, soft and lazy after your orgasm. Kento nestled himself between them, cockhead stroking between your folds, and you whimpered to feel your sensitive clit nudged. Folded over you, Kento met your eyes. A slightly guilty smile ghosted over his face, his voice shaking, seemingly coming back to himself. He resolved to restrain himself;

"I, uh...usually have better manners. This was unprofessional of me. Ungentlemanly, even. I...I insist we...leave this here, and do this properly. Now, we sh-- haaaaah, fuck-- shit-- you--"

Interrupting Kento, you had waited for his cockhead to stroke down to your entrance before fucking him inside you, rolling your hips up to trap his cock inside your walls. You wailed around the stretch, Kento's cock huge and pulsing inside you, and Kento lost his mind.

Grasping your hips with vicious strength, he cursed, rutting into you with abandon. You felt his fat, blunt cockhead jabbing against your cervix immediately, and Kento leaned into it, tilting your hips to fuck you deeper, overtaken by a primal need.

"...little minx...I offer you--ahhhh fuck-- dinner, and you...you offer me...your cunt...just like you, shit--"

You giggled, breathless against Kento's feral attentions, and the sound shot straight down Kento's spine. Your laughs caught in your throat when he held his hips flush to yours, barely pulling out, bullying into your pussy with no restraint.

You felt the steam of sweat beneath Kento's shirt, felt how badly he needed this, and revelled in the way he fell apart above you, his cock milked by your wet, velvet heat. Kento leaned back just enough to see where his cock disappeared into you.

The sight had him reeling, and he came with a bark, spitting and swearing against his total lack of self-control. You felt his cock twitch and bound inside you, spattering your walls with thick stripes of cum. Kento crumpled onto his elbows, face twisted in euphoric agony to see you bite your lip at him, rolling your hips to milk him of every last drop of cum.

Gasping for just a few moments, before rolling his shoulders with soft cracks again, Kento pulled out of you, flipping you over so your face pressed down into the rug. You squealed to feel your hands drawn behind your back, and the soft shhhhff shhhfff shhhhhffff of his tie being pulled free of his collar.

Face down, and arse up, Kento dipped his fingers into your cum-dripping, twitching hole.

"That's how a boy does it," Kento growled, beginning to thread his tie around your wrists, "now lets show you how a Kingsman does it."

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Getting to wax lyrically about my beloved London was a treat.

Up next: Higuruma Hiromi/Merlin

589 notes · View notes

helenanell · 25 days

Text

Every Saturday || Challengers

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Every Saturday || Challengers

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader

CW: Kissing. Emotional affair. Infidelity. Angst. Yearning. Bittersweet / slightly sad ending.

Notes: No smut. No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film.

(This is not connected to my other Challengers story - ��Breath Of Life)

Wordcount: 4K

This is the response to a request from @anehkael :

‘Art, exhausted by the pressure of competition and his wife, decides to escape for a day. He ends up at a local tennis court, where he meets a talented and charismatic female player. Their instant connection on the court turns into an unexpected love affair, but Art's professional and marital obligations threaten to keep them apart.’

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You had always known that tennis would never be your vocation. Vocation implies dedication; a calling to pursue that ever evasive thing in life: utter fulfilment.

You love it and you know that you’re good, really good, but you’re also realistic.

The expanse between ‘really good’ and ‘great’ also contains the capacity to make something your career. You don’t have the capacity to go pro. Which is fine. Totally fine.

You content yourself with filling all of your free time on your local–and free to use–court. Hours that would otherwise be whiled away on the realisation of your own loneliness or swiping right on dating apps only to panic and ignore any messages you receive.

It’s Saturday evening and the sun is waning, its outlandishly burning rays absorbed by clouds as it sinks down the horizon.

You’ve just wrapped up a match with a woman who you see at the courts from time to time- shamefully you don’t remember her name. She did tell you it once, the first time you met, but then a month passed before you saw her again and you felt too awkward to ask. Besides, there’s no post-match conversation between the two of you, the woman is in a perpetual rush and always disappears immediately after you finish playing.

You, on the other hand, have nowhere else to be.

A young woman with nothing to look forward to beyond the hits of adrenalin and the all too temporary sense of fulfilment that comes with beating other amateurs at tennis.

You’re alone as you sit down on the bench at the edge of the court, chest still moving with erratic breaths. Your skin is already adorned with beads of sweat but when the sun dips down even further, its light is replaced by a swathe of blue shadow and your burning flesh immediately pebbles at the sudden change in temperature.

Your body is seized by a reactionary shiver, so you jump up off the bench and hurry over to your bag, crouching as you unzip it and dig around for your sweater.

Your fingers have just closed around the soft fabric when you hear the metal gate to the courts creak open, the chainlink shaking as it shuts again.

“You forget something?” You call out.

As you’re presuming it’s your acquaintance, you don’t bother to look, busy pulling the sweater over your head.

Your head is awkwardly pushing through the neck hole when a distinctly male and very amused voice hits you square in the side of the face:

“Not to my knowledge.”

You go still, your sweater settling down onto your torso of its own volition.

Your mind has a sort of detached recognition for the voice: you’ve heard it before, but perhaps not in person. On the radio, or a movie or…or in a post match interview on tv.

You scramble, pivoting violently to face the new arrival.

“What the fuck?!”

You’d meant for the exclamation to be internal, but in your shock it tumbles out of your mouth that’s already agape.

Art Donaldson, the champion tennis player– infamous and beloved athlete– is standing in your shitty, free to access local court.

A genuine, full watt smile spreads across Art’s face before he lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m sorry if I startled you.”

You watch, dumbfounded as he saunters closer to you, placing down his bag and racket just beside yours.

Fuck, his racket…it probably costs more than your practically antique car.

“I'm sorry, but are you lost or something?” You blurt out.

Art straightens up, hands placed on his hips as he surveys you. He’s enjoying your panic, you realise. Not in a malicious way, just highly amused.

“What gave you that impression?”

You let out a clipped laugh. “Well…you’re standing here when the exclusive country club is fifteen minutes that way.” You point over his shoulder.

“I know where it is.” He answers simply, still smirking.

He’s toying with you. And never one to back down from a challenge, defiance rids you of your nerves.

“So why aren’t you there, Mr Rich and Famous Tennis Champion?”

At that Art tilts his head, as though he’s been given new information and has to reassess you.

“Because I don’t want to be.” He responds. “Why are you here?”

You shrug, brushing past him to gather up your things, heart beating punishingly in your chest.

“Because I want to be.”

“But you’re leaving.” Art points out, bordering on exasperated despite his goading tone.

“Because my match is over.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and turn to face him, unable to stop yourself from teasing him back. “Oh, did you think I’d stay just for you?”

“Yes.” He answers unabashedly. It glues you to the spot. “I caught the tail end of your match, you were great but you were holding back. I’m guessing you don’t encounter many people here who challenge you.”

His tone injects some defensiveness into your veins. “I don’t need to be challenged, I’m not a professional. This is fun for me.”

Art quirks a blonde brow. “Oh, but being challenged is very fun.”

“Are you offering?” You shoot back sarcastically.

“Yeah, I am.”

And just like that you’re gawking at him again. “Are you kidding?”

Art holds his hands up placatingly, as if showing you he’s not concealing a weapon. “Deadly serious.” He says.

You look around the abandoned park, searching for hidden cameras. This has to be for a prank show. It has to be.

“I can’t play you.”

Art frowns as if disappointed at your lack of self-belief.

“Sure you can. I was watching you, I'm certain you can keep up.”

You hold his stare, his blue eyes glinting as his expression settles into something anticipatory. You glance at your racket that’s sitting on the nearby bench.

“Don’t go easy on me.” You order. “I’ll know if you do.”

“I don’t doubt it. Come on, quit stringing me along and pick up your racket.”

You reach down, your fingers hovering above the racket as you grin at him.

“Careful Donaldson, it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a tease.”

His cheek dimples as the corner of his lip tugs up. “Prove me wrong then, pick it up. Play tennis with me.”

Eyes still on his, you curl your fingers around the racket and straighten up, raising your eyebrow.

Challenge accepted.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The moment Art wins, you let yourself fall to the ground.

You lay down, uncaring of the harsh surface beneath you as you suck in breaths, your throat aching, your whole body shaking with exertion.

You’d never felt like this after playing tennis.

Whoever you’d gone up against before, it had always felt like you were waging war on a one person army across from you: you would bear down on them with all your might to achieve victory. You were an attacking force.

But playing with Art it hadn’t felt like a battle it had felt like…a joining. You were so attuned to all that he was and every move he made, that it felt like you had become one with him.

For a brief moment in the daunting expanse of time, it had felt like only the two of you existed, only the stars bearing witness.

Stars.

Only now as you’re staring up at the sky, do you realise that night has well and truly fallen; the harsh automatic floodlights throwing your exhausted form into stark relief.

You let out an almost giddy laugh.

In your peripheral, you see Art run over, easily jumping and clearing the net to get to you. But you’re too tired to move, so you just lay there inertly as he comes to stand over you, placing one foot either side of your hips.

He smiles down at you.

“How you doing down there?”

All you manage to do as your eyes drift shut, is lift up your hand and flip him off.

Art lets out a full-bellied laugh that catches hold of you and takes you along for the ride. With your breaths slowing, you find yourself able to laugh along with him.

“Okay.” He begins, shaking off another chuckle. “Let’s get you up.”

You feel a shift in the air and open your eyes to see Art stepping to the side of you before he’s leaning down and holding out his arm for you to take.

Like you, he’s drenched in sweat, but neither of you even really notice as drops of it fall from his cropped blonde hair and onto your body.

With a dramatic groan, you sit up and grab onto his arm.

Art tightens his grip and pulls you up, placing his free hand on your back for extra support and tugging you close.

You’re quickly back on your feet, but as you sway slightly Art keeps his hands on you.

“You good?” He asks genuinely. His face is so much closer than you realised.

When the hand on your back begins to rub soothing circles, a traitorous flutter appears in your stomach.

You’re suddenly extremely grateful that your face is already flushed. How embarrassing, fawning over a married man who likely just wanted to play some tennis in relative peace and with no absolutely no stakes.

God you needed to have sex.

Your own thought startles you- the same effect as being doused with a bucket of ice water. How desperate were you, that playing tennis with Art had got you so worked up?

No, actually you knew the answer to that. The experience had been beyond any sort of intimacy you’d ever felt. You want him.

You shake your head, scolding yourself as you pull away from him, stepping back.

But Art follows you, closing the small distance you’d created. As concern blooms on his features, his hands settle on your arms, bracketing you in his hold.

“You’re not okay?”

You blink up at him. “What? No, I am. I’m fine.”

Art narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “But you shook your head.”

When one of his thumbs starts brushing back and forth on your skin, the answering heat that begins to pool in your belly tells you it’s time to leave.

“Did I?” You ask airily as you shake out of his hold and pick up your racket.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I’m fine. That was great. Really great.” Each word is forced out.

As you walk over to the side of the court and start gathering your things, you feel him walking up behind you.

“Yeah, it’s the panic in your voice that’s so convincing.”

You shove your racket into its case, your back still to him. “I don’t think you know me well enough to judge my moods. You don’t know me at all.”

He’s by your side in an instant. His hand is hovering over your waist, as if he wants to hold you in place to stop you from leaving but knows he has no right to do so.

“Look, will you please slow down? I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

You let out self-pitying scoff as you turn away from him again and throw your bag over your shoulder.

“You’ve not done anything wrong. This was…I’ve never felt like that playing tennis. Or ever, really. So thank you.”

“So why are you running away?”

You halt, your sneakers scraping against the abrasive ground. Art’s voice has taken on a new severity; a frustration that even he sounds confused by.

“I’m not running, I’m just going home.”

You’re stepping out of this court and extricating yourself from his orbit that he’d so easily pulled you into. You’re not just attracted to a man who’s one half of America’s Favourite power couple, you also really like him.

But this court isn’t the real world and he’s almost certainly just passing through. If you can get out now, he’ll be gone: by the time you wake up in the morning, he’ll likely be on a flight with Tashi Duncan, en route to his next competition.

When you walk away and out to the gate, you’re beyond grateful that Art doesn’t call out to you again.

But instead of the disconnect you hope to feel once you're free of his presence, instead there’s a tugging, as if he managed to tie a cord around you and is pulling on it in the hopes he can reel you back in.

You keep walking until you reach your car, still tense as you peel out of the parking lot.

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Exactly a week after you first met him–almost to the hour–Art Donaldson reappears in your life.

As you’d played your weekly match with the woman whose name you still don’t know, he had been watching. You’d caught him in your peripheral vision, leaning up against the fence and tracking your every movement.

You curse him and thank him in the same breath.

You curse him because he’s only going to exacerbate the issue that you’ve been having, which is that he’s taken root in your mind. He’ll burrow his tendrils deeper and stop you from thinking of anyone else for a long time.

You had been so sexually frustrated after meeting him, that you’d actually committed to a date with a Tinder match for once. You’d just been there for the sex, which you might have felt bad about had your date not made it clear that he had had the same motivations.

It had been fine.

You’d thought of Art the entire time.

And you thanked Art, because…well, you thanked him because you’d been desperate to see him again. Tortured by the ghost of his touch and furious at yourself for the way you’d left things.

It’s a good thing your opponent is always seemingly in dire need to be somewhere else, because she leaves the court with such rapidity that she doesn’t spot the world famous tennis player making his way over to the now open gate.

Your breath stutters in your throat as Art approaches. It’s the same time of day you’d first seen him the week before, so the light is at the exact same point of fading into darkness. But this time, he seems to be bringing the shadows with him.

Art looks utterly forlorn. And yet, he still manages to smile at you as he approaches.

You’re still standing on the centre of the court, your racket hanging in your hand.

Only as he gets closer do you really register that he’s not in sports gear. Instead he’s dressed in jeans and black t-shirt.

“You never told me your name.” He says, still making his way over.

The statement jolts you out of your reverie. Had you really…he didn’t know your name? The evening you’d shared had been so intense that you already felt like you knew him and he knew you.

You give him your name and he smiles almost gratefully, as if you've bestowed him with a gift.

When he comes to a stop before you, you find more words waiting on your tongue:

“Why are you here?”

Art pushes his hands into his pockets, eyes dropping briefly to the ground.

“You didn’t ask me that last time.” He says quietly.

You scoff, gesturing at his clothing and the clear disparity between his casual attire and the tennis court.

“You’re clearly not here to play another match.”

“You shouldn’t presume.” He teases. “Maybe I secretly love the feeling of denim and sweat on my skin.”

Despite yourself, you laugh and it causes Art’s dimples to make an appearance.

“Well, that would make you a psychopath.” You say.

Art’s eyes skitter over your face, it’s brief but unnerving. It’s probing. Then he steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your face.

You’re suddenly sure that meeting his gaze will open up a horrible, confusing can of emotional worms, so you set your eyes on the racket in your hand, twisting the handle around in your fingers.

Art is undeterred by your withdrawal: “Let me walk you to your car?”

The question sounds so much like a hopeful supplication, that you have to look at him. When you make eye contact, his brows draw together as his gaze turns entreating.

Your eyes widen slightly as your heart sinks. You know what this is. A goodbye.

“You’re leaving New York.” You say flatly and with the utmost certainty.

“We have a flight in a few hours.”

“Art.” You say admonishingly, a sharp pain in the shape of that ‘we’ digging into your chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

We. ‘We’ meaning him and Tashi Duncan. Art and his wife.

He says your name for the first time and it makes your heart stutter.

You’re pathetic. You scold yourself internally. You’ve only interacted with this man once before. He’s a professional athlete with a beautiful wife. He can’t be wanting for anything more.

So then why has he been driven to this run-down public court? Why did he spend an evening playing with a stranger? An amateur stranger.

Why has he felt the need to come and say goodbye to you?

You know why:

It’s because the two of you have started something that you can never finish. You’re both enamoured with the idea of a connection that can never be fully realised.

Art reaches out and tentatively touches your arm.

“Please let me walk you to your car.”

You can’t bear to see his face, not when his words sound so sorrowful. So you nod shortly and then move past him to collect your things.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The walk to your car is made in utter silence, but Art remains close to you the entire time, his arm brushing yours. A couple of times you even feel the touch of his fingertips, as if he’d gone to take your hand but stopped himself.

As if to compound on your delusion that in this moment only your and art exist, your beaten up red car is the only vehicle in the parking lot. It stands bright against the darkness as an ominous ending point: the moment you reach it, you both know whatever this nascent but potent thing between you will be stifled.

You don’t let yourself dwell on how Art might have got here if his car isn't here. Whether fear of being spotted had him parking elsewhere, or he was staying somewhere so close that he’d been able to walk to you.

You both slow your pace as you approach the vehicle. You want to stop completely but you know you have absolutely no rational reason to.

Once you reach the car, you dig your keys out of your pocket.

“Thank you for walking with me.” You say on an uneven breath.

When you turn to unlock the door, Art steps up behind you, his arm crossing into your vision as he closes his larger hand around yours, stopping you from completing the action.

You go still, relishing the contact but feeling awful for wanting more. All you find yourself able to do is stay still and wait- wait for him to do something that he shouldn’t.

You let out a conflicted sigh as his other hand lands on your shoulder and turns you around to face him. He then takes your hands in his own.

Your sight can’t help but snag on his wedding ring and he must be watching you so closely that he notes the very brief flicker of your eyes.

“It’s just a ring.” He says the sentence like he’s afraid of it. “It doesn’t mean what it used to. To either of us.”

“But you are still married.” You reply, hating how small your voice sounds.

“Yes.”

“And you’re leaving.”

Art’s hands tightens on yours, his thumbs running over your knuckles. “I’ll be back in New York.”

“When?”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, fingers sinking into your hair.

“I don’t know.” His tone is somehow simultaneously mournful and apologetic. “But I will.”

Even though you know you need to pull away, you lean into his touch.

“I guess I’ll see you then.” You say, trying and failing to sound unaffected.

“You will.” Art concurs softly. His heavy-lidded eyes drop and his hand shifts, his thumb running along your lower lip. Then his other hand is on your thigh, rising up beneath your skort.

“Art.” His name is meant to be a warning on your tongue, but it comes out as a whispered plea.

His thumb drops away and then he’s cradling your face in both hands, he closes in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your lips.

But his next words are anything but chaste. “Unlock your car.”

His command is feverish, his hot breath skimming over you as he kisses along your cheek.

Only then do you remember that your car keys are still clutched in your hand. You're holding them so tightly the metal grooves are digging into your skin.

“Art, you have to go. You have to get on a plane. We can’t have sex in the back of my car.”

You let out a small gasp as both of his hands fall from your face to encircle your waist, then they go lower, gliding over the curve of your ass before settling just beneath, causing your skirt to ride up.

“I have time.” He mumbles against your jaw, moving down to press desperate kisses to your neck. “We have time.”

His words are so glaringly false to both of you, that a visceral melancholy appears between the two to you and as it grows larger forcing you apart.

Art strains to stop his kisses, his lips lingering as if he’s fighting against an engrained instinct to be connected with you. When he presses his forehead against yours, his hair tickles your skin. Then as his hands shift to grip your waist, you rest your own on either side of his neck.

You feel a tightness in your throat, panicking as you realise how deeply entangled you already feel with this man you’ve only met twice. You don’t know him. He’s a stranger.

And yet, you can’t let this unknown being go.

But you have to.

You force yourself to say the words, making them sharp and swift like the severing snip of scissors: “Art, you need to go.”

He nods, his forehead brushing yours where you’re still pressed together. But he doesn’t move, instead his lips press to your forehead as he encircles your body with his arms. The hug is the same sort of crushing yet comforting force of gripping someone’s hand when you’re afraid you’ll lose them in a crowd.

When Art buries his head in the crook of your neck, he places a gentle kiss there. You raise your arms and squeeze him back.

“How often do you come here, to the court?” He asks, another kiss placed on your neck.

“Every Saturday, the same time.”

Art pulls back and takes your face back into his hands. His eyes alight on each and every dip and curve of your face as if he's mapping your features like they’re the stars of the night sky. As though he’s memorising patterns so he’ll be able to find you again.

“Then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You smile sadly, smoothing back his hair. “Which Saturday?”

His answer is another passionate kiss.

#art donaldson x reader #challengers movie #art donaldson #mike faist #art donaldson x you

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gunnerfc · 3 months

Text

Replacement? | Steph Catley x Matildas!Reader (18+)

Summary: You get called up to the national team for the first time after making big waves in the women’s A-Leauge. After hearing just how good you are, Steph feels like her position on the team is threatened.

Warnings: age gap (R is early twenties/close friends with Kyra), fingering (r receiving), oral (steph receiving), pet names for R (“good girl”, “pretty girl”), Steph being called ‘captain’ during sex, Steph being kind of mean, thigh riding (Steph)

WC: 3.4K

AN: in honor of Arsenal's win in front of 60K! 🤪

Steph ignored the notifications from Instagram and Twitter, knowing it was the squad announcement for The Matildas’ upcoming friendlies against New Zealand. She knew her name was on the list without having to look. It was Kyra’s voice that pulled her from her thoughts as she was eating.

“Y/N finally got a call-up! It’s about time,” the midfielder all but shouted. Steph’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Y/N? She hadn't heard your name before but you were seemingly close with her younger Arsenal teammate.

Before Steph could ask who you were, Caitlin beat her to it. “Who’s Y/N,” the forward asked in between bites.

“Y/N Y/L/N, we played together in the youth teams! She’s a left back just like you Steffy,” Kyra explained, directing her last statement towards the defender.

“Where is she playing now? Back Home,” Caitlin asked, more interested in knowing about you than Steph was.

“Yeah, for Perth I think,” the midfielder responded as she picked up her phone again to text you ‘congrats’ on getting called up for The Matildas.

“She’s really good, I’m surprised it took this long for her to get called up,” Kyra added after sending her text. “Might have to watch out for her, Steph,” Kyra joked as she stood to go join Alessia and Vic at their table.

Steph lightly chuckled at the younger girl’s words, trying to ignore how Kyra was singing your praises about how good you were. The thought of you, who she didn’t even know, plagued her thoughts the rest of the day.

Steph would be lying if she said Kyra's words didn't affect her. She knew the young midfielder was just joking but her words sent her into a spiral. The Matildas’ captain spent the next few days before they had to leave for Sydney watching any and every video she could find of you playing.

And Kyra was right, you are good. Normally she would be excited for new call-ups, wanting to see everyone get the chance to represent Australia and bask in that feeling of getting their first cap. But something was different with you, something Steph couldn't place her finger on.

After a long flight from London to Sydney, the three Arsenal players were finally headed to the team hotel. They were some of the last to arrive, having a later game than some of the others. A staff member met them in the lobby with room assignments and keys for the stay and Steph thanked god when she was given a room to herself this camp. It meant she could be deep in thought about you without having someone question if she was okay.

It was late when they arrived, most of the team had already eaten and retired to their rooms for the night knowing tomorrow would be full of nonstop training. It wasn’t until the next morning at the team breakfast that Steph saw you in person for the first time. The defender couldn’t spot you right away but she heard your voice that she immediately recognized from the numerous post-match interviews she watched of you.

Steph subtly looked around the room as she fixed her plate, following your voice to a table with Kyra and Mary. The three of you were deep in conversation about something Steph had no knowledge of and she had to force herself to look away from you to find her seat at a table with Caitlin, Hayley, and Alanna.

“Why do you look so pissed this morning,” the Man City player questioned almost immediately after Steph sat down.

Steph’s eyes were wide at the accusation, having thought she was keeping her expressions under control. The defender went to answer but her Arsenal teammates beat her to it. “Her replacement is here,” Caitlin laughed, receiving a glare from Steph.

“Who? Y/N,” Hayley spoke, nodding her head in your direction. Caitlin answered, telling her she was correct which drew a laugh from both Alanna and Hayley.

Steph ignored the trio making jokes about you taking her place, hoping to get on the field as quickly as possible. She was determined to show Tony that he didn’t need to consider someone else for the friendlies, that she had it covered.

Steph opted to sit by herself on the bus ride to the pitch, tuning out her teammates and thoughts about with music. During all the warm-ups the training staff had the team doing, Steph’s eyes never left you. You caught her eye a few times, sending her a friendly smile each time but only getting a glare in response.

You weren't sure why Steph was seemingly annoyed with you, you hadn’t even officially met her yet. Tony had split the team into different groups based on positions to run through different drills and you took this opportunity to introduce yourself to Steph.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, you’re Steph right,” You had a bright smile on your face as you spoke to her while some of the other defenders ran through the drill.

“That’s nice, but you should be focusing on what we’re doing,” Steph gave you a pointed look, nodding toward your teammates. Steph didn’t look at you long enough to see the confused look on your face and it didn’t help that you could hear Alanna snicker behind you.

You shook off Steph cold attitude and did exactly as she said. You focused on what the staff were saying and how your fellow defenders ran the drill. You noticed slight mistakes they made that allowed for a goal from the forwards and took it upon yourself to correct them when it was your turn.

You did exactly that as you tackled the ball from Hayley, allowing Lydia to safely collect the ball. As your foot connected with the ball, you could hear encouraging shouts from Kyra and Mary on the sidelines, cheering you on. You were the only defender that kept one of the forwards from scoring.

“Good job, kid,” the Real Madrid player praised as she offered you her hand to help you up. You took her hand, sending a small smile as a thank you before joining the other defenders.

Steph had a scowl on her face as she watched you successfully tackle Hayley. She knew you were good, she spent the last few days analyzing everything about your style of play. What pissed her off was that you seemed to not realize how good you were, that everything you need always worked out in your favor without you really having to apply much effort.

“Still think she’s going to take your place,” Alanna quipped from behind her, laughing at the captain’s face.

For the rest of the training, Steph tried to ignore you. Each time you did something well, the staff and players were cheering you on and it was getting to her. Training finally came to an end a few hours later and everyone was ready to get back to the hotel for showers and to relax. Throughout training, you got closer with Alanna and Ellie, and from Steph’s point of view, she saw it as a connection forming that might translate on the field.

Steph found her seat on the bus but before she could get her headphones out, Caitlin joined her in the seat next to her. “Y’know, if you weren’t being so closed off, you would see just how nice she was,” the forward teased, earning a laugh from the two who sat with them at breakfast.

“Fuck off, Caitlin,” the defender growled, hitting play on a song to tune everything out. Caitlin laughed at her before getting up to sit next to Alanna. Steph was pissed at the idea of you starting over in the first game and considering how well you did in practice, that seemed like a possibility.

Returning to her hotel room, she quickly headed for the shower, needing to wash away every thought from training. You had gotten under her skin without meaning to and it was driving her crazy. Steph quickly got dressed before heading to the conference room for dinner, ignoring everyone who tried to speak to her. Though it wasn’t many given that they could see the anger on her face.

She didn’t want anyone to question her so she bit the bullet and sat down at the same table from this morning, though this time Ellie had joined the group. This time she had to listen to the four of them talk about how good you were, which she knew they were just trying to mess with her.

From your table with Kyra, Mary, and Charli you kept looking in Steph's direction, hoping she would look up from her food and make eye contact with you. She might have brushed you off the entire day for no reason but for some reason, you felt drawn to her. You watched as she finished her food, not bothering to stay after she was done as she quickly stood up from the table to dispose of her plate.

You watched her quickly leave to head back to her room and you took this as an opportunity to speak to her alone. You told your friends goodnight and were out the door just as quickly as Steph was. You found her room and stood outside, debating whether or not you should knock.

The part of you that wanted to confront your captain won out as you lifted your hand to knock on the door. On the other side of the door, Steph groaned at the sound not wanting to face anyone again. Without looking through the peephole, Steph jerked the door open, coming face to face with the one person she couldn't stop thinking about.

“Hi,” you mumbled as you locked eyes with Steph. Her jaw was clenched and you'd be lying if you weren’t a little turned on at the sight of her pissed off, especially with you.

“What do you want,” the defender huffed, annoyance lacing her words as she spoke.

“Um, I just… I just wanted to say I was sorry if I did something during training to make you mad. It wasn’t my intention to do so,” you stuttered, finding the carpeted floor much more interesting.

Steph watched you fiddle with your hands as your eyes stayed locked on the floor. Steph lightly scoffed at your words, of course, you came to apologize for something you weren't even sure you did.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me. I’m your captain,” Steph had never pulled the captain card with anyone before, but something about this was different.

You quickly looked up at the older woman, your face heating up from your slight embarrassment. You nodded your head, letting her know you understood. Steph’s eyes scanned up and down your body, before her eyes locked with yours again. Without saying anything, Steph pushed her door open further and stepped to the side, allowing you into her room.

You felt excitement fill your body at what might happen once you stepped through the threshold. The door was closed quickly behind you and you were roughly pushed against it. Lips were on yours before you could realize it, kissing you harshly. You moaned into the kiss, your hands coming to rest on Steph’s neck as hers kept your hips pressed against the door.

Your lips moved against each other roughly, lightly biting each other’s lip as you made out. Steph pulled away first, her eyes dilated as she took in your dazed state. Your breathing was heavy as you locked eyes, letting her dictate what happened between you.

Steph pulled you further into the room, stopping at the foot of the large bed. “Be a good girl and strip,” the older woman instructed, eyes never leaving yours.

You nodded as you quickly undressed, throwing your clothes off the side. Steph’s eyes took in your naked form, licking her lips as she did so. You could feel that you were already wet and Steph hadn't touched you yet. The defender took her time undressing herself and it was your turn to check her out.

Steph pushed you onto the bed, nodding her head up to tell you to scoot up the bed. You listened as your breathing picked up, watching as Steph climbed up the bed before straddling one of your thighs. You both shuddered at the contact, the room growing warmer as the seconds ticked by.

You felt yourself growing wetter the longer Steph went without touching you, attempting to rub your thighs together out of instinct but failing as Steph’s thigh was in the way. “You listen well, pretty girl,” the defender teased watching your chest rise and fall rapidly.

“Please,” you croaked out, needing her to touch you, to make you cum. The pet name makes you feel weak.

Steph smirked down at you, raising her pointer ringer to your lips, pushing in on the for you to suck. You did as she wanted, sucking on her finger as you held eye contact with her. Steph’s brain short-circuited as she watched you suck on her finger before adding her middle finger as well. Steph pulled her fingers from your mouth with a quiet “pop,” a string of saliva connecting your lips to her two fingers.

She trailed her fingers down your torso, leaving a wet trail in their wake. When she reached your dripping cunt, she smirked to herself at how wet you already were. Tentatively, she pushed both fingers into you, groaning at the feeling of being inside you. You moaned at the feeling, your head falling back onto the pillows that were propped on the headboard.

“Faster, p-please,” you whined below her, needing more from her. Steph loved hearing you beg her to fuck you and she listened to you, speeding up her fingers slightly.

Steph watched from her place on your thigh as two of her fingers thrust into you, feeling herself grow wetter at the sight of her fingers glistening with your cum. You could feel how wet she was against your skin, wanting to make her feel the way she was making you feel but your mind was preoccupied with the pleasure she was giving you.

The wet sounds of her fingers fucking into you mixed with your low moans filled the room, driving the defender crazy. Her fingers sped up again, needing to hear you get louder, she needed to see you fall apart. Her two fingers that were pushing inside you hit that familiar spot, drawing a loud moan from your lips. Steph's fingers continued hitting that spot as a familiar coil tightened in your lower stomach, you were so close to cumming for the first time.

"P-please, Steph. I've been a good girl, please let me cum," you croaked out in between moans, your eyes welling up as the pleasure. Hearing you beg became one of Steph's favorite sounds in that moment and she was determined to make you beg again.

"Are you sure you deserve it, pretty girl, I don't know if you've been good enough," the defender husked, fingers curled inside you.

Steph took in the sight of you spread open for her as her fingers fucked into you. Your back arched as you threw your head back against the pillows, hands gripping the hotel sheets beneath you. Your hips bucked up to meet her thrusts, helping her fingers go deeper.

You locked eyes with your captain and she could see the desperate look in them. "I've been good, I promise! please let me cum, p-please" you choked out, eyes screwed shut as a few tears escaped from the sides. You weren't sure you could hold out for any longer.

"Cum for me pretty girl," Steph instructed as she drilled her fingers into you.

You came on her fingers hard, your eyes tightly closed as your hips bucked. Steph watched as you fell apart, keeping her fingers moving inside you, helping to ride your high. You could feel a second orgasm quickly approaching.

Steph's hips were grinding against your thigh as she placed her free hand on your lower stomach, pressing down on your skin as she thrust her fingers. You came again around her fingers as you chanted her name, filling the hotel room with your moans.

Steph pulled her fingers out of you as her hips moved against your thigh, chasing her own high. She brought her fingers to her mouth, tasting you on her fingers as she moved against you. You opened your eyes slightly and watched the defender fuck herself on your thigh as she sucked her fingers clean. You let go of the sheets to place your hands on her hips, guiding her to her first orgasm. Steph fell forward, catching herself with one hand beside your body, the other holding yours that rested on her hip.

The feeling of her clit hitting your flesh was almost enough to make her cum. You watched as she chased her high and flexed your thigh to help her. It was Steph's turn to moan loudly as she made a mess all over your thigh.

Steph kept her hips moving slightly as she came down from her high, not wanting to lose contact just yet. You sat up so you were face to face with your captain, pulling her into a deep kiss. You moaned at the distant taste of yourself on her mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. Steph's hips came to a stop on your thigh as you broke the kiss, both of you breathing heavily.

"I think that's two to one, pretty girl. Care to make it even," your captain teased, a smirk on her face. You matched her smirk as you flipped the two of you over, leaning Steph against the pillows that rested against the headboard.

You left harsh kisses down her torso leaving marks to form in your wake, pulling away as you reached her bellybutton. "Is that order from my captain," you looked up at her with hooded eyes, seeing a deep look of arousal in her eyes.

"Yes," the older woman husked, watching as your smirk returned to your lips. You placed a quick kiss right below her belly button and a few nips on her hip bone before sliding further down the bed to face her still dripping core.

With your right hand, you held her thigh open, stretching her out for easier access. Your left held her thigh that was now placed over your shoulder. You blew lightly against her, the cool sensation making her jolt and her jaw fell open with a quiet groan.

Steph moved her hands to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pushing your head closer to her. You gave small nips to clit before sucking the bud into your mouth drawing a loud moan from the woman above you. Her hips were moving again as she moved against your face in an effort to gain more pleasure. You pulled away from her clit with a loud noise before quickly thrusting your tongue inside her.

With the way she was fucking herself on your face and holding your head against her cunt, you hardly had to do anything. The taste of her made you moan, sending vibrations through her that made her bite her lip to quiet herself. The sounds of you fucking her echoed off the hotel walls, driving you to go faster.

Steph could feel herself getting closer to her orgasm and she fell over the edge when you looked up from between her thighs through hooded eyes. She could see the teasing glint in your eyes which was enough to let go. The defender came all over your face, soaking your mouth and chin.

You would have stayed there longer but the sensitive feeling was too much for the captain as she pulled your head back with the makeshift ponytail. The sight of you with her cum coating your mouth and chin drove her crazy as she sat up to pull you into a searing kiss.

You both moaned at the taste of her, before pulling away when air became a problem. Both of your breathing was heavy as you stared into each other's eyes.

"Looks like we need a tiebreaker, captain," you teased with a playful smirk, knowing it would get under her skin. Her eyes darkened once more as she flipped your positions.

This was never how you pictured your first call-up to the national team would go. But as you and Steph went back and forth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other, you weren't complaining. You weren't sure what this meant for you and your captain but every part of you hoped that it was something that would continue whenever you saw her next.

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #steph catley x reader #steph catley #arsenal wfc x reader

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kitorin · 9 months

Text

"I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"What's wrong, Rin?" Another page turns, your eyes remain glued to the novel, head resting on his thighs as his fingers occasionally poke your cheek.

"Am I ugly?"

The question makes you choke on your spit; Itoshi Rin, the very man who had you infatuated at first glance with his prominent eye lashes and his wintry gaze, just asked if he was hideous.

"Who the hell said that?" The surprise makes you sit up, and Rin barely dodges collision with your head. It's common knowledge that he couldn't care less about his appearance, skin and hair care were simply for hygiene, which was all that mattered to him. There's anger heating up at the thought of someone breaking his indifference, and it reveals itself through your speech

"No one, Yukimiya's photographer came for a photo shoot. Everything went well until I noticed the lines on my face."

"Lines?"

He nods "They weren't there before." His fingers ghost over an area near his cheeks. "Apparently they're not supposed to be there." Rin reaches into his pocket, unlocking it and showing you a photo.

It's a photo of him, Hiori and Yukimiya, the three of them grinning whilst being covered in designer brands. Nothing seemed wrong, it's an adorable photo; revealing Rin's typically concealed dimples, eyes squinting with joy, the kind of smile he uses when he's genuinely happy, instead of the polite and subtle one he gives to interviewers.

"I don't see an issue."

"Here." He zooms into his face. "Those things." His lithe fingers point towards the area between the sides of his nose and the corners of his mouth. Smile lines.

"Fans said they shouldn't be there. So, am I ugly now?"

There's a legitimate confusion laced with his tone, and you silently thank how he decided to talk about it with you before believing in whatever comments were left on Instagram.

"First, whatever fans say have no credibility, they're just people on the internet. Second." You climb into his lap again, cupping his cheeks and once again getting lost in the depths of his beryl irises. "Those are called smile lines. You're not ugly for having them, and never will be." His aquamarine eyes gaze back, as you brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"Even if they weren't there before?"

"Of course. They're a sign you're living a life filled with joy and happiness. And that is more beautiful than any beauty standard out there, and so are you." Your thumbs trace the creases, the entirety of your palms can feel the warmth of his cheeks, savouring how the softness contrasts the callousness of your hands. "You're beautiful, you always have been and always will be. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

Your lips plant a kiss on his forehead, and you soon return to admiring every crevice of his face. From the viridescent azure irises and the eyelashes which adorn them, how surprisingly soft and squishy his cheeks are (of course only you'll ever know that).

"Thank you for putting them there then."

"Hm?"

"I never had reasons to smile. Not until I met you."

Anyone can tell Itoshi Rin seldom expresses emotion, let alone joy; but you had always assumed he kept it to himself rather than believe nothing was worth his jubilation.

His hands reach for yours, fingers ghosting over them. "Thank you for brightening my life, for being the reason why I'm able to live so happily." Gently, his hand pries one of yours off his face, placing a kiss on it. "I love you."

Rin smiles; it's soft, exposing his dimples and smile lines, cheeks matching his lips in colour. You're pretty sure you're just as flushed.

A quick peck to his lips (he still tastes like the persimmon haichuu you were eating together earlier) and you swear he somehow grows redder. "Does this mean I'm allowed to have the last ice cream?"

"You're supposed to say it back dumbass. And fuck no, that's mine." Despite his callous language he picks you up into a cradle carry, placing you down besides him, soon making his way to the front door. "What flavours do you want? And what kind and which brand?"

"Awww, I love you too, I want the vanilla and melon soft serve by the way."

Rin scoffs. "Of course you only say it back when I'm doing you a favour." But he's pocketing his wallet, and about to unlock the door to leave. "You're annoying."

"Yet you still love me."

"Are you sure? Because I'm buying every flavour of yukimidaifuku and you're not getting any. Milky candy too." You don't miss the smirk on his face at the sight of your disbelief.

"I hate you."

"Love you too darlin'."

[In the end "you're not getting any" was a lie]

Tagging: @yuzurins

#this was rushed yet it rotted in my drafts for a bit lmfao #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #fluff #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock manga #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic writing #rin fluff #itoshi rin fluff

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beenbaanbuun · 3 months

Text

the bed w/ jongho

words - 🤠

genre - fluff/friends to lovers

warnings - pure fluff, nothing else

“why are you in my bed,” jongho grumbles as he storms through his bedroom door

he kicks his shoes off, not paying any attention to where they land before crawling onto the bed himself

you’d spread yourself out in the centre of it, leaving very little space for your friend in his own bed

he makes do, though, throwing himself over your stomach and pinning you to the bed

you groan as he knocks the wind out of you, but all does is chuckle

“actually, scratch that,” he says as he tries his hardest to got comfortable, “what are you doing in my apartment? you don’t have a key.”

he finds it hard to find a good spot to lay since there’s a literal body beneath him, so instead he sits up and tries his hardest to shove you to the side

you resist, but eventually roll over when his finger pokes a particularly ticklish spot in your side

he goes to get comfy, making sure to pull one of his pillows free from beneath your head and put it beneath his own

you punch his arm as payment; it doesn’t hurt him, he just laughs

“found your spare key under your doormat,” you say as if it’s as simple as that, “you need to find a better place to hide that, by the way.”

he repeats your words in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner

“sure, but why are you in my bed?”

“it’s comfier than mine,” you shrug, laughing at the exasperated sigh he gives you, “besides, it’s not like you were using it while you were at work.”

“and maybe if you had a job you wouldn’t feel the need to come to my apartment and nap in my bed when you could be at work,” he teases

now it’s your turn to roll your eyes

you shove him slightly, in response to the poor taste joke, but he knows you’re not really mad

you never are when it comes to him…

something about the way he taunts you makes you light up inside

maybe it’s the way he giggles at you when you get annoyed, face lighting up in glee, or perhaps you just like it when he pays you attention

either way, you hope it never stops

“i’m trying to get a job,” you reply, seriousness lacing itself in your voice, “i had an interview this morning actually.”

he turns to look at you with surprise on his face

“you never told me,” he says with a minuscule pout, and you realise the shock on his face is more to do with the fact it was hidden from him than anything else

you look away, not wanting to force yourself into seeing the hurt that’s swimming in his eyes

all this over a job interview? weird, you think to yourself

“i wanted it to be a surprise if i got the job,” you mumble, “but i kind of fumbled so i don’t think i did.”

you’d never tell him, but it’s actually your disappointment at your own failure that led you to your best friend’s bed

the comfort it brought you to slide one of his hoodies over your head and surround yourself in the familiar scent of his bedding was better than the comfort you gained from anything else

the knowledge that jongho would be there soon to comfort you, unknowingly picking up the pieces of your shattered ego, was nice

his presence was your safe place, even when that presence was just the smell of him ingrained in his sheets

“you fumbled?” he clarifies, “how so?”

he opens his arms to invite you closer; it’s an opportunity you jump at, shuffling until you’re close enough for his arms to circle your body

“i kept answering their questions weirdly,” you say as you press your face into his chest, “but in my defence, their questions were dumb.”

he chuckles, and the sound rumbles through him

“you don’t need to defend yourself to me,” his voice sounds deeper when you hear it through his chest, “i know you’re trying your hardest.”

a hand comes into contact with the back of your head, gently patting at it as if he’s trying to soothe you

you almost tell him that you don’t need soothing, but the sensation is nice so you let him continue

“i am trying hard,” you sigh, “and i wish they could see that rather than just seeing all the stupid answers i give them! they probably think i have negative braincells…”

jongho can’t help but heartily laugh at that

he clutches onto you as the sound rings through the air, effectively pinning you to his body

you can’t help but be happy that he’s not one of those people that slap things when they laugh…

“i also think you have negative braincells,” he says through his giggles, “but that doesn’t stop me from thinking you’re a great person that’s worthy of employment.”

for what seems like the hundredth time, you hit his arm

“i got higher than you in school, dickwad!”

you only scored higher by a margin, but you still did better than him and therefore have eternal bragging - or in this case defending - rights

the playful arguing doesn’t go much further than that

in fact the two of you fall into a peaceful silence pretty quickly, the only sound that fills your brain is jongho’s heartbeat; strong and stable, just like he is

just likes he’s always been, actually, ever since the two of you were just kids playing in each other’s back yards

he tried to teach you football when you were both young, but ended up kicking the ball too hard and bruising your shin

even at the age of 7 he was so willing to comfort you in your time of need

you still see so much of that pudgy-faced boy in the man you know today

and then when he was a teenager you specifically remember him trying to teach you basketball

he had his arms wrapped around you as he positioned your hands correctly

when you shot your first basket without his help, he celebrated it like he’d just scored the winning basket for the team he played on

you still think about the way he picked you up and spun you around sometimes; it feels like such a special memory

you can’t help but smile as you let it play in your mind one more time

“what are you thinking about?” jongho asks

you shift your head so you can see his face, his big brown eyes meeting yours immediately

perhaps it’s the dimness of his bedside lamp, but you can’t help but appreciate how nice he looks right now

you’ve always known him to be attractive, but surely his lips haven’t always looked that soft, right?

“why do you want to know?” you respond quietly as you try and make sense of this new feeling that settles over you

well, perhaps it’s not new, but it’s certainly stronger

“i want to know everything about you,” he replies, no evidence of a joke on his face, “like what you’re thinking, or when you have a job interview.”

well, that’s targeted, you think to yourself

“i told you it was supposed to be a surprise if i passed!” you whine

he smiles slightly

“it would’ve been a great surprise,” he admits, “but i still can’t help but wish you’d told me! i would’ve gone with you for support.”

and he would’ve

one word from you and he’d have taken a day off work just to do anything in his power to help you

hell, you’re sure he would’ve gone into the interview with you if he could

you can’t help but giggle at the idea of him standing behind you like a bouncer, arms folded threateningly as the interviewers fumble through their dumb questions

“your support would’ve been greatly appreciated,” you say

he hums an agreement

“this is why you tell your jongho things, okay?” he teases

you pause

“my jongho?”

“who else’s would i be?”

you shrug

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i just thought such a title would go to a girlfriend or something…”

you feel your face heat up at your own words

perhaps it’s the connotations that come with it; a title that should’ve gone to his future girlfriend has gone to you instead

why is that thought making your heart beat so fast?

“i mean maybe one day it will,” he says, “but only if you say yes.”

your mind goes blank

what does he mean by that?

“because if you don’t then my plans will be kind of fucked, you know?” you don’t know. you don’t know anything at all, “like what’s going to happen if you say no and things get awkward? who will i take on my family’s spring vacation then?”

“huh?”

that’s all you can say

because his words make sense in your mind, but none of it makes sense in concept, except it also kind of does

but then the notion of it all is making butterflies erupt in your stomach, which also doesn’t make sense because why?

“do i have to spell it out for you, my little dummy?” he smiles, a familiar fondness in his eyes, “i’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

and that’s when it all dawns on you

the reason you feel closer to him than anyone else

the reason you want him to be the first to know everything

the reason why you always try so hard to impress him

you’re in love with him, and you have been for quite a long time, it seems

perhaps it was the basketball incident that set this proverbial train in motion; you distinctly remember feeling butterflies then

although at the time you had put it down to just feeling nervous about impressing jongho, even that excuse points in the direction of love

holy fuck

“hello?” he waves a hand in front of your face, “anyone in there? or am i just going to have to assume it’s a no-”

“no!” you cut him off, eyes going wide, “i mean yes. no to saying no, yes to your question… the girlfriend question.”

a wide toothy grin forms on his face, one of the ones that shows his gums and makes his nose scrunch up in the cutest way

oh god, have you always been down this horrifically bad for him?

“god you’re cute,” he says with happiness evident in his voice

it’s funny; you were about to tell him the same thing

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #ateez fluff #jongho oneshot #ateez oneshot

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yinses · 2 years

Text

5 (+ 1)

or five times you attempted to pet tighnari's ears and the one time he let you

tighnari x gn! reader rated: t wc: 9k+

a/n: i swear i'm not a genshin writer. every now and again one just really hits me and won't leave me alone. i'm shaking at the prospect of meeting cyno.

|1|

when you had taken up the life of a very luxurious forest ranger, you hadn’t done so with any grand goal in mind. growing up you’d never been enticed by the prestige of the akademiya. the too tight robes warded off any appeal of unlimited knowledge.

you weren’t much of a haggler either, so market trading had never been much of an option. to be honest, in most cases you couldn't be bothered and would give away something for free if it meant getting the person out of your face.

maybe as a child you’d dreamed of theatre. promises of dancing in front of a crowd. or performing a sincere song of gratitude in honour of your generous archon. but there was a reason why only the children of sumeru dreamt. because it saved you the reality of embarrassment.

ultimately it made sense for you to be a forest ranger. you were blessed with a vision and had the aptitude for conflict when needed. you didn't mind being outside. sumeru was a beautiful land of bountiful vegetation and fauna. you were proud to be part of the force protecting it.

so naturally, you were destined to join their ranks. you would fit in splendidly as long as you followed the basic code of conduct.

the rules were simple:

execute every possible strategy to ensure the safety of the public

do not engage in any withering zone excavation without first reporting it

do not under any circumstances attempt to touch master tighnari’s ears.

you believed that honour should be given where it was due, and tighnari certainly earned a bulk of it in sumeru. he was as tenacious in his research as he was in his determination to cull the withering.

it was admirable. unquestionably gave his subordinates something to look up to. it helped that he made an easy guy to work for. tighnari was an abundance of knowledge, never failing to deliver relevant facts about any form of botany in sight.

during your initial interview he completely sidetracked himself from testing your competency in favour of dumping the equivalent of a knowledge capsule on the entire forest on you. and during the whole time all you could think was how cute.

those fluffy, distractingly soft ears he had that twitched with every emotion. you noticed that sometimes they swayed unprompted, as if they had a mind of their own. the man himself seemed oblivious to your obsession, or just so immune to the attention at this point that it hardly phased him.

it was a shame really.

because by the time he realised you were out of your seat, he had a split second to snatch your offending hand before your fingers to reach the fur. the utterly adorable culprits seemed to tease your failure, flickering invitingly just out of reach of your wiggling fingers.

at least you had enough integrity to smile in the face of defeat as your future boss leered at you unimpressed.

he spent the remainder of your now orientation laminating over the very extensive punishment policy to be expected of any broken infractions.

|2|

it was safe to say the threat of punishment didn’t weigh too heavily on your consciousness. what you did learn, was everything more the life of a ranger had to offer. it wasn’t as though you belittled it to a simple forest guide. you were well aware of how each and every one of your colleagues put their life on the line to protect the gifts from the first of the dendro goddess.

but you never expected your contribution to feel so satisfying.

every day your body got stronger, gaining the resilience and stamina to endure long treks through the forest. you became more in tune with your vision, able to protect not only yourself but others from harm. unexpectedly, tighnari’s long winded tangents began sounding more appealing as you absorbed the information rather than repel it.

with each passing day you grew into the role of a proper forest ranger.

though there was one thing you hadn’t grown out of.

“you two will be assigned with me. we’ll patrol the southeast canopy.”

tighnari was always so serious when delegating assignments. archon’s bless him. given it was a momentous occasion as it was imperative to understand everyone’s role so that their was a fair opportunity to return home safe and sound.

it was just he way his ears followed each command. the adorable quiver not at all equivalent to his resolute voice. even after over a year under his command, it was still so distracting. to be fair, you’d learned to control your urges. after the second attempt and a week of making sure the long row of lamps remained glowing, you had at least accepted the pressing issue of testing his patience.

your respect didn’t go unrewarded either. over time, you learned that under those cute ears was a very interesting man. you always knew he valued his time in the forest and that the publications were not just for show like some of the akademiya graduates. but to witness his unfiltered passion for the forest was … kind of refreshing.

it made for genuine conversations that allowed you to feed off one another. while you’d never quite match his never ending knowledge for botany, you accompanied it well with your growing love for fauna.

in short, tighnari had become an unexpected friend.

with very endearing ears that you still felt the urge to touch after many, many months of barely held restraint.

it was admirable.

worth the gained friendship.

and yet.

collei’s shoulder knocked comfortably into yours as she hopped with glee. her joy made her unaware to the sharp gazes watching her exuberant movements for any signs of fatigue. being around collei had eventually led you to believe that something was different about her.

as a fellow trainee for a time, the two of you had grown close enough for her to feel secure in delving into more of her past. her illness wasn’t necessarily rare but it wasn’t often you met many affected with as much optimism as she had.

there was no doubt she had bouts of pain. sometimes you would cover her patrols to give her extra days of rest. tighnari was the most observant, always knowing when she needed a break. still the girl was a refreshing take on life in these darkening days.

it helped that you both shared a fixation with a certain pair of furry ears.

whereas she was more timid in her appreciation, you had yet to shed your bold approach.

well, maybe you got a little smarter.

“but i already know about the sweetwater mushrooms,” collei whispered back, confusion staining her voice. there were times like this that her charmingness rivalled tighnari.

you resisted the urge to pat the crown of her head.

you all knew about the infamous fungi. upon its discover, tighnari had spent nearly a month after submitting his entry into the new rainforest guide speaking all about its elements; to anyone or anything regardless how responsive.

if it was a botanical topic the fox found it hard to resist engaging.

leaning closer, you kept a close eye on the leading man.” i know you do but tighnari always has something more to say. i just need you to ask him about it.” you refrained from using the word distract.

collei’s ability to lie wasn’t a favourable skill. more often than not she caved in on herself before being able to spin a convincing tail. you’d learned fairly quickly the first time you convinced her to test a new route. the two of you hadn’t found any trouble but the slight delay in return roused a few questions. and of course tighnari had been the investigator. she never had a winning chance.

“i still don’t get why i have to ask.”

“because i need an opening to try to touch his ears.”

the sharp gasp she left out was enough to shatter the gossip bubble as tighnari turned with a suspicious frown. his gaze fell heavily on you as the culprit.

“what are you two muttering about?”

laughing sheepishly, your hip checked subtly against the younger girl’s as you took the lead. “just about the dusk birds. their mating season is approaching.”

tighnari raised a brow, but didn’t question further. one of the ways you’d managed to bond with collei had been over the observation of the bird hatchlings. they were one of the safer offsprings you were allowed to track in your earlier days, making you very familiar with their nesting grounds. it was one of the few areas he allowed you both to wander together without supervision.

“uh huh, well unfortunately i doubt we’ll get many sightings this low. please try to stay vilgint for any threats.”

tighnari rolled his eyes at your comical salute but was unable to hide his small grin. it only fed into your wider one.

good. he was in an amicable mood today. you’d both need it.

collei managed to remain cool headed despite your hanging plan as the three of you ventured through the more worn paths. travellers and students alike tended to frequent these parts, fending off most wildlife who didn’t want to be bothered. it was mostly flora that flourished, taking up any available space.

the perfect conversation starter.

the green haired trainee squeaked when you cleared your throat and nudged her softly. the noise caused a flicker to tighnari’s ear but he otherwise left the two of you to your devices as he examined the population of fungi.

your gaze darted to the seemingly preoccupied man and back, to which collei gulped but carefully approached. “um, master tighnari. do you mind going over the procedure for warning travellers about fungi again? sometimes i stumble with the more insistent ones.”

you could hear a bit of truth bleed into the ploy. it was certainly convincing enough as tighnari gestured for her to come to closer as he plucked a few samples. “certainly! it’s always good to familiarise yourself. sometimes they can get a little tricky. like this one, the bell-shaped and conical caps can often confuse people. you have to really pay attention to the arch…”

archons bless him, it didn’t really take much.

tighnari’s eyes darted briefly to you as you settled near them. his body turned to welcome you into the discussion, but he otherwise continued his deep analysis of proper measurements of cap width. the fleeting eye contact was enough for you to witness the undeniable brightness as he conversed.

as much as you liked to tease him, the jest hardly had any weight when the man was as serious about his research. he often responded with a chide about the importance of understanding and how it promoted coexistence. and then he would give you editions of his publications for you to study.

the first few times, after you’d baulked at the depth of the information, you’d actually managed to discover a few interesting elements. despite his ability to drone on, the passion he felt was undeniable when reading through this material. even if you didn’t retain much of the actual reading, the smile you developed lingered. only to widen when you’d witnessed the excited flicker of his tail when you’d returned the books with a few inquiries of your own.

tighnari took your interest in the fauna populating the forest seriously, cultivating the bud of fascination and furthering it. you hadn’t developed enough academic discretion to attempt a article- not that it would have been credible without the proper education- but tighnari baubles your insights all the same, often using your tracking skills to help develop new routes during various mating and hibernation periods.

it … really helped you feel at home. valued amongst the other forest rangers.

so what if you occasionally found your cheeks warming whenever he complimented your new discoveries.

“when people ask, it's important to point out as many examples as you can to help them identify. in most cases you only have their attention for a few minutes so you need to capitalise.”

you had to give it to collei, she was either fully immersed or integrating very well into the diversion. though when tighnari got like this, it was nearly one in the same.

rolling onto your knees, you paused as those endearing astute ears twitched in your direction. tighnari hadn’t skipped a beat, however instinct was so inherent. it made for an unfair advantage, however you had desensitisation on your side. the next disturbance you made as you leaned closer hardly got a reaction as his second nature focused on the world outside your bubble.

it was a flattering downfall that you’d happily exploit as your hand neared your objective.

“- actually that’s a common mistake. some of the gills look similar but if you notice here..:”

oh no.

in one fluid motion, tighnari managed to capture your hovering hand, dragging it forward under his arm to come in contact with his other. the motion dragged you flush against his back as he manipulated your fingertips against the underside of the mushroom.

“-… there’s a coarser distinction. of course, you have to be careful when encouraging other to touch freely as some can still be poisonous.”

naturally you doubted tighnari would use you so freely as an impromptu demonstration, punishment be damned. though the way he kept your appendage hostage implied that you weren’t free from reprimand.

poor collei chuckled nervously as tighnari held out the fungi for her to try, eyes wondering anxiously between the two of you. from your imprisonment, you were unable to see what expression tighnari was giving off, but if the tight grip was any indicator it was safe to hypothesise that it wasn’t in your favour.

“i um- see. thank you, master.”

tighnari didn’t appear to have any ill will towards the girl which was a small grace. his tone, however, was noticeably pinched as he directed the conversation over his shoulder.

“do you have any questions, ranger?”

yep.

there’s the wrath.

accepting defeat, your head careened forward into the hollow of his shoulder as you mumbled your negative with the shake of a head. Immediately you felt his posture stiffen in responses to your relaxed submission. the proximity awarded you a personal showcase of the heat crawling up the back of his neck.

interesting.

“well then!” tighnari forced a cheerful bravado as he brought you both to an abrupt stand, releasing you in favour of stepping forward to lead. “collei, listen closely as they recite every classification as we finish our patrol. we can make note of their mistakes so that they don’t make them again when they extensively copy them onto the new pamphlets for next release.”

it didn’t evade you how the fox refused to face you as he pressed forward. you dared to guess that the rosy hue of his neck might match the roundness of his cheeks.

perhaps some discoveries were worth the failures.

|3|

“I really want to feature the spinokrok in my next story but I’ve never really seen one up close. dad says it’s too dangerous though.”

“he’s right. they’re at the very bottom of the ravine.”

“oh…”

“but sometimes i pass through on patrols. if you’d like, i can snap a reference photo for you!”

“really? that would be awesome, thanks so much!”

children’s happiness was truly a unique fruit of motivation, both gratuitous and frankly slightly treacherous to consume. tighnari might liken it to one of the colourful sprouts that populate the banks near the cliffside; beautifully cunning but sure to leave you with a nasty surprise.

—okay, maybe that was a little dramatic.

but you were certainly going to be in for quite the scolding if tighnari found out that you derailed your patrols for the sake of taking a leisure photo of wildlife. in the defence of safety, the fox wasn’t as easily swayed by a childish promise.

fortunately, you were adept enough with just about any patrol path through the rainforest by now. your experience often persuaded tighnari to give allowance for you to tend to the paths along the outskirts of the village solo.

which you were totally doing.

just from a view a couple hundred metres below.

the path towards the wetland ravine was a muddy line in the undergrowth, a quieter trail that rarely gathered much traffic: traveller or wildlife. to be honest, you hardly ever saw anything other than the spinokrok’s down here. though given their diet, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

you carefully neared the bankside, watching the position of the sun in between the treetops. you’d already bartered away a lot of your time venturing this low. while you were known for a bit of wandering, if you took too long to check-in someone would end up alerting tighnari before long. the sky was already beginning to bleed into a light orange, the beginning shades of the setting sun melting into the blue above.

not your first nighttime return, but the light scolding would be easy enough to shake off.

the sudden splash drew your attention to the winding river as a crane took flight. the skittish fowl wouldn’t have been alerted to your presence this early which meant that your targets weren’t far off.

tugging the kamera from your knapsack, you followed the line of the water through the lens.

“there you are…”

razi would be pleased with the prints of the small brood of three. highlights from above complimented the red scales nicely. curious, you swung the lens further upstream in an attempt to capture a few more. known for their meat, if undisturbed it would be easy enough to find at least another two or three.

however as the slithering vines stretched norther further, twisting through branches on its congest to conquer vegetation, you found the rapidly darkening view to be concerning. sure enough, the once plentiful flora was beginning to shrink on itself and take on a dull shade. the distinctive red flow of the withering zone was seated right in the apex of the blistering landscape.

“here too?”

the area was small, but this route was part of the weekly assignments rather than the more frequent. had you not come here in search of fauna, it likely wouldn’t have been discovered for a few more days. unfortunately, locating it yourself was tantamount to giving away your private detour.

for a brief moment you debated taking the chance to report, weighing the pros and cons. ultimately, the loss of independency once tighnari tracked your impromptu route was too great of a squander. besides, it was a small devastation. you were qualified to handle it.

—except for the corrupted machina lingering just out of sight.

the narrow lens of the kamera hadn't been able to capture the additional dangers before you neared. had you been aware, you would have attempted to at least down one before you got too close. it was a tight battle, suffering under the thick miasma while trying to cut off the source.

you’d managed to down the bulkier of the two, but the swindling snake-like projection had been doing an annoying job of evading your strongest attacks. with your hp at threatening level, coupled with low energy regeneration, you were starting to regret your choices just a little bit.

you briefly wondered if tighnari would scold you through the eulogy.

the darkness blanketing the forest worked against you, as the remaining threads of daylight faded. the red glow of the withering was the least comforting form of light to rely on as you made a hasty dodge away from the blasting beam.

“oh, crap.”

a miscalculation saw your foot caught on a fraying vine, careening your forward as you landed heavily onto the ground. the threatening wind of the machina generating energy had you sucking in a harsh breath as you attempted to stand, resulting in a sharp jolt of pain as your ankle protested. a cold chill numbed your body in the worst way as the unsettling realisation of your actions weighed in. scrambling feebly for your weapon, you attempted to shield the next blow though you knew it wouldn't be enough.

“enshroud!”

your body jerked in alarm as a cloud of green circled the earth around you. the lack of visibility should have been worrying, had you not been very familiar with it’s caster; and the inevitable reckoning that would come.

the first half came in the form of a series tanglevine shafts trained to track and devastate. the secondary wave wiped out the last of the threats before your savour was able to focus on the bleeding blooms. you’d never been more grateful to witness a successful clearance, as the suffocating effects of the withering abed away. it gave you just enough clear air to breath a grateful sigh of relief before it all soured.

the second half of your retribution, was a quieter approach of wraith then you were use to. tighnari refused to look you in the eye as he kneeled before your injured limb. not that that you were trying to see the reflection of your guilt staring back at you. it gave you the opportunity to observe that he’d come alone, making you wonder if he’d been informed or had simply stumbled upon you.

neither option was beneficial.

the fox was obviously simmering, that much was clear even in his silence. he’d produced a small aid kit from his belt and was examining your ankle. the first sounds of annoyance permeating the air when you squeaked at the firm pressure against the joint.

it was obvious that you wouldn’t be walking out of here.

as if you weren’t in enough trouble.

tighnari’s reticence preserved as he tied a stiff bow at the end of your wrapping before turning to offer his back. sighing, you accepted your fate and looped your arms around his neck. tighnari waited until your knees settled at his sides before he rose to his feet, added a second security under the weight of your thighs.

at first you hoped to construct a plausible excuse in his silence, but after you’d practised the same redemption for the twelfth time you were starting to become more concerned about his resilience. you dont think you've ever witness tighnari hold back a scolding this long.

unable to hold out any longer, you poked the hornet’s nest.

“so razi has this new story idea.”

yeah you were throwing the kid under the bus, sue you.

the first flicker of his ears was a subtle warning, but you pressed through.

“he wanted to use the spinokroks as his next character but he’d never really been able to see one up close. and naturally it wouldn’t be safe for a child to traverse the forests. even with his father.”

there goes the second ear.

“so being the helpful forest ranger i am under your tutelage, i offered to secure a reference photo for him. which of course—”

tighnari’s voice came quiet and strained. “please stop talking.”

you waited for him to say more, sure that he’d have more to tack on, but no other words left his lips. it was disconcerting in a way you hadn’t experienced before. you'd suffered through annoyance, frustration and some rage.

but rarely disappointment.

it was bitter tasting.

it was rather telling when even the wildlife seemed to avoid the pair as you ascended out of the ravine. tighnari managed to not only reach the outskirts of the village, but did so without cracking under the pressure of your culpability.

unfortunately you weren’t as robust.

“tigh—”

“for every word, i’m adding a week of lamp maintenance duty.”

you squeezed your arms and legs around him in a hug, seeking out a thread of comfort through the throbbing pain of your ankle.

“i’m sorry.”

tighnari sucked in a sharp breath as his steps halted. you could see the first glow of the lamps in the distance, no doubt a night crew lingering near to welcome the late returners.

“you’re an idiot.”

a tight fist squeezed your heart as you shuddered against his back.

“i know.”

“another week! i cannot believe your absolute disregard for your welfare. not only in straying from your patrols but to attempt to clear a withering zone without reporting it first. what were you thinking?”

your lips parted, voice small,” well i thought given how far off it was that no one would come across it before it spread.”

the fox was quietly shaking under you,” i’m tempted to bench you for a year for this alone. you could have been killed.”

“but i wasn’t.”

tighnari didn’t acknowledge the crackled excuse as he resumed the ascent towards the heart of the village. the conversation was over, at least for tonight. you almost felt bad for those hapless to witness the quiet fury as the leader trudged through the canopy. though the arrangement surely painted a telling story no one dared to stop or question.

upon entering your bungalow, tighnari silently backed into your bed until you took the hint.

as your arms slipped from around him, your fingertips brushed against the furry cartilage. though the action went ignored by both parties.

“rest, we’ll discuss this in the morning.”

|4|

the discussion did not come the following morning, or the rolling day as the sun rose and set. given your ailment you weren't exactly able to seek out your punishment, though the waiting game felt like the precursor.

for the first three days, your only visitors were collie and one of the local healers. tighnari likely hadn’t banned the nervous girl, allowing her to stumble in at first light to assess your injuries. it seemed as though he also didn’t inform her of much as she tired to glean what she could.

unfortunately, your mood hadn’t really improved from the night before, nor had your pain levels. you managed a tight smile at best, gritting through a scarce overview. the overhanging rumours were that you finally pushed tighnari to his limits. which was not too far from the truth.

your medicine came in three intervals, and each visit was just that. umm only offer a genial knowing close-lipped smile as she applied the numbing cream and rewrapped your joints. the only news came from collei with each meal. it was never what you wanted to hear, but the sound of a voice other than your thoughts was welcome.

you were able to keep up with light chat, the both of you doing an amicable job at avoiding the shaggy sumpter beast in the room. if the flightiness she gave off was anything to go by, then tighnari hadn’t completely cooled off. initially, you’d only probed subtly. asking about her patrols to see who accompanied her. questioning new withering zone reports to gauge who might be assigned. either tighnari had instructed her to be tightlipped or she was on as much of a lockdown as you were because the information gleaned was inconsequential.

it wasn’t until the fifth day, when you were able to balance on your injured ankle for longer than a minute that you dared to try for more.

umm had just finished, stepping clear of the doorway to allow collei to maneuver freely with the two bowls of lunch. the younger girl was in a lighter mood, giving you the extra confidence to push.

you took a bite of the leftover stew first, before testing the waters. “has tighnari taken you on any deeper patrols lately?”

the girl stiffened but otherwise did not show any signs of distress.

“not really, he’s been kind of strict with patrols lately. only seniors have been assigned to the forest floor. i patrolled the understory with nasrin yesterday though! the dusk birds are starting to nest.”

you could resist a soft smile as the girl lead comfortable into a short tangent about the different locations she’d tracked in her notebook. she loved to watch the hatching process from the birth to first flight. tighnari was often more lenient with her during this season. you were pleased to know your mess up hadn’t resulted in that being taken away.

“hopefully i’ll be healed enough to catch one of the hatchings.”

collei’s gaze flickered to your freshly wrapped ankle, “master tighnari wouldn’t say but he’s been pretty testy about ranger etiquette lately. well more than useful.”

“yeah, i was pretty stupid,” you muttered, quoting the fox’s words from that night.

collei sat upright on the chair by your desk, responding to your despondent mood. “he’s not nearly as bad as before though. i mean that morning after he was really mad. not like loud angry, but everyone knew not to test him. but he’s calmer now”, she assured.

you assumed as much. avoiding you was likely the best way to keep his temper in check.

you watched as the green haired trainee squirmed in her seat, no doubt uncomfortable at the idea of being between the brewing conflict. tighnari no doubt tried to ease that predicament by withholding information. the least you could do was honour your half to keep from setting her off.

“umm said i should try walking around more. i got permission to pace the platform if you want to join.”

the girl jumped at the chance, nearly losing her bowl in the process. laughing, you quickly took hers and set it on the desk with yours before standing to your feet. collei was at your side, urging your arm over her shoulder. it wasn’t really necessary but you’d never turn down the girl’s assistance.

carefully the two of you ambled through the leaves shrouding your entrance. it wasn’t the first time this week that the sun warmed your skin. umm had urged you to test the distance from your bed to your porch on the second day with each visit there after. it helped tp press your limitations while keeping the joint from getting too stiff. but this was the first time you’d been able to venture far enough out to interact with more than the same two people for the last few days.

collei remained diligent as she led you down the straight path, attention not straying from your gait as you greeted faces you haven't seen in awhile. the reception was overall positive, your health and wellbeing superseding the wraith that had hung over the encampment for the past week. it narrowed down the list of those you’d need to apologise to at least.

“oh it’s master tighnari!”

your gaze snapped to her extended finger, noting the tall tuff of ears before anything else. his back was turned to you, a fortunate thing as you still weren’t sure how to face him just yet. he appeared to be conversing with a group, though it wasn’t the usual collection of rangers waiting for assignments.

you recognized the garments however.

collei groaned as she sagged under your arm. “its the akademiya again. when will they ever learn?”

likely no time soon, as the pressure from both the forest and threat of the ‘scarlet king’ followers continued to rise. the first time you witnessed the prestigious envoy attempting to recruit the fox, you’d been in awe. it was somewhat of an honour to be approached by anyone doning the gowns. next to the archon herself, they were the reigning power. however the prestige lost a light grace, when tighnari scoffed at the invitation.

it was one of the occasions that you’d really come to appreciate more than just his vast knowledge. of course, you respected him as a leader but it was different to consider his understanding of plant life on a scholarly level. his tangents that he loved to rattle your ear with were published and very popular articles.

he was something of a celebrity. a fact that you loved to tease just to see the tops of his cheeks grow warm at the admission.

now, even at this distance, you could see a similar red dusting his fair skin. but not in the pleasant way that warmed your chest.

no it seemed that an inkingly of your excursion still peaked his heart rate. and this wasn't making it any better.

that wasn’t good.

“collei, please help me.”

“huh? oh, wait! not too fast.”

tighnari grit through a tight smile, barely hanging onto his fangs to keep them from showing. at a young age his mother taught him that human could find it threatening. frankly, right now he wished to find out how much of a truth that was if it got these nuisances out of his hair.

this was the last thing that he wished to deal with right now. the institution had taken a different route it seemed, sending students under the premise of studying under his tutelage. something he would maybe consider any other time than now.

his foot tapped irritably as one of the bolder ones spoke his piece, spouting words of prose that meant nothing to him. they were all weak and obvlivious children wandering aimlessly. he had enough of those under his own watch.

“master tighnari, i've read all your publications intensively and feel that i would be a valuable asset in your further research of the withering zones. i believe that together we can find a cure.”

tighnari barely resisted rolling his eyes. it was almost laughable. the withering had plagued them for centuries and they were still no closer to curbing it. no amount of research at this point was going to factor in. all they could do was contain, and that was a skill the akademiya didn’t teach.

breathing audibly through his nose, the fox attempted to remain cordial. “i appreciate your determination, however, i'm not in a position right now to allocate more rangers to facilitate your safety. the forest—”

“—i’ve also read intently on the local fauna and proper was to track warning signs of predators…”

tighnari really hated when he was interrupted.

“i’m confident in my ability to spot danger before it becomes a problem.”

especially by know-it-alls who were overstepping in his domain.

the student continued on unware of the growing dangers, “i’ve brought a few of my manuscripts with me if you’d like to browse some of my speculations and hypotheses…”

tighnari's brow twitched as the student droned on. for someone who boasted about extensive research on understanding predators he was rather obvious to the one standing before him. the same couldn't be said about his colleagues who were carefully edging back.

“if i could just get a few samples—”

the student had sense enough to notice as the plant scholar suddenly flinched, hand coming up to grasp the wrist of the hand threatening to touch the tip of his ear. it was the first time since opening his mouth that he’d taken into account the strained curl to the lips of the botany researcher.

his gaze then flickered to the more relaxed, if not slightly sheepish smile of the forest ranger behind. they seemed otherwise unconcerned despite the death grip they'd been trapped in for … attempting to touch master tighnari’s ears?

the student felt a shudder wrack his body as the fox’s grimace smoothed into … something that he would one day recognize as a reckoning he’d be fortunate to survive in years to come.

“apologies, you’ll have to excuse me. it appears one of my rangers feels well enough to venture off their bed rest and is due for some new assignments.” with that, the lead ranger looped the still trapped limb over his shoulder before assisting the injured ranger back up the canopy.

“you can give your manuscripts to my trainee, collei.”

the green hair trainee in question waved timidly, unsure of how she got in this position but willing to help.” hello, im forest ranger trainee collei. please let me assist you safely out of the forest.”

|5|

“it’s master tighnari!”

believe it or not, forest rangers did get off days. while it was still heavily frowned on to use that time to exploit certain privileges to free roam the forest, there were other activities that some could get up to.

some would use the opportunity to travel to the city or port for the market or to visit family.

others utilised their freedom to work on personal research.

then there was tighnari who used the opportunity to research the local flora … via oral experimentation.

your small project had been tossed aside in favor of darting out of your bungalow at the cry of fright from the green haired girl. it wasn’t the first time you’d witnessed tighnari taking his passion … to the next level. that time, curiosity had thrown him into a rather long slumber that he’d conveniently woken up from after a gratuitous amount of panicking on collie’s part and just in time for you to return with the rescue aid party.

it was safe to say that was not the last occassion, and tighari had treated you both to several lunches to make up for the scares.

but it wasn’t often that he was brought back to the village in a state. more often than not the ailments resolved in the time it took someone to find him or simply shaken off with no concern.

it was enough to have you barreling unannounced through the head ranger’s door with apprehension. firm but fraying hands caught you as you stumbled through, righting your body before you could embarrass yourself.

“don’t worry, tighnari is fine. it’s a harmless reaction to one of the fungi he consumed.”

umm brought her hands to a comfortable leisure behind her back as you peered over her shoulder.

tighnari was lain out across his bed. it looked as though he had been tucked away intentionally, but the man had fought away the sheets in a fit. there was a light coat of perspiration doting his forehead and his skin had taken on a rosy flush. it hardly looked harmless. you’d never seen the lead forest watcher look so … unravelled.

when was he going to learn to stop experimenting so freely?

umm gave a passing pat to your shoulder,“with a bit of rest he’ll be just fine.”

you had hoped as much but it eased some of your worries to see him at least home safe. though his predicament still tested your resolve. you would distract yourself for the time being concocting your own chiding speech. seriously, someone needed to hold him accountable. as it seemed, you were the only one daring enough to challenge the fox.

heavily a relieved sigh, you turned to leave. collie would likely need a second dose of comfort now that you’d taken your own inventory of the indisposed ranger. umm, bless her soul, wasn’t a very convincing source of comfort. having collie help prepare your speech would do some good for her as well.

“wait, don’t go yet.”

you stiffed at the unexpected plea. the voice behind you sounded a bit stronger than it should be in this predicament, more like the fox you recognized. umm hadn’t left you with any instructions, but it was safe to assume he was meant to rest as not to rile up his heart rate anymore. something you were very good at doing.

you liked to think that the two of you were on agreeable terms thus far. you’d been a textbook ranger over the last few weeks. not testing the limits of your privileges or boundaries. it allowed for the two of you to have some nice conversations. though you doubted anything very articulate would come from his mouth right now.

it was unfair, how adorable he looked with mussed hair, heavy eyes and creased clothes. umm had taken responsibility to rid him of the more decorative parts of his uniform, leaving him in a simple shirt and pants. the said shirt appeared to have been tugged open, revealing the lean muscles of his chest and abdomen.

that was decidedly leaning away from cute, as you tore your gaze away and scolded yourself.

“you should really lay back down, tighnari, i need you to be yourself when i deliver your scolding later.”

“tigh.”

“huh?”

you were shaken out of your stupor when he stood, concern triggering your fight reaction as you quickly huddled him back onto the bed before he fell. he allowed you to do so, however when he glanced up at you his olive eyes showed annoyance.

“i prefer when you refer to me as tigh.”

your mouth open and closed silently at the admission. you could never recall tighnari outright scolding you for the curtail of his name. you used it so sparingly, and only ever in the comfort of just yourselves or collei.

he never really showed any emotion other than surprise the first time he’d realised what you said. you never assumed he’d catalogued the occurrences to feel any ownership over the name.

you fidgeted under the scrutinised of the fox, unsure of how to proceed from there. it was obvious that he was still mildly effective if the rose of his skin was anything to go by. but there was undeniable clarity cutting through the fog in his eyes. it was enough of a relief to have your shoulders sagging slightly.

if it got him to comply and rest through the remainder of the effects, you could concede.

“okay, … tigh. please stop eating flora so carelessly.”

it wasn’t your intention to start the chastising prematurely, but if he wanted you to talk, you’d do so. you weren’t sure what all of this he would recall, but you hoped the echoing nag of your voice would hover like a hangover next time he considered experimenting alone. you knew he only tested things with vague assumptions, just enough to ensure that he wouldn’t perish on sight. but it was still close enough calls for you to worry.

you thought nothing of the way he snared your hands, too used to having them detained in pursuit of your goal. maybe another time you would be the one to catalogue just how frequently the two of you help hands. certainly enough to suffer from desensita-

your speech cut off with a choke as the fox brought one of your hands to the crown of his head. it was the closest you’d ever gotten to your prize, just a simple flex of your fingers and it would be yours.

and he was just allowing it.

“um, tigh…?”

you swallowed as his hold slid to your wrist, thumb caressing the inside.

“it’s what you want, right?” unintentionally your finger flexed under the strain of resisting, just the casual brush against the ear causing the body to shudder. tighnari managed an even breath through his nose, but you suspected his heart was creating as much of a racket as yours was. “ i want you to. i don’t mind if it’s you.”

you sucked in a sharp breath at the omission.

it took strength that you didn't think you had, and stupidity you’d likely reflect on later that night as you regrettably pulled your hand away. firmly not thinking at all about the soft whine that left the fox’s lips at the action.

your smile was wobbly, frail under the weight of emotions teetering at the edge. you gave his bicep a comforting squeeze before you urged him to lay back in bed. thankfully he didn’t put up much of a fight as you tucked him in.

his lashes fluttered closed against the cool caress of his cheek.

“next time, promise.”

between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.

|+1|

tighnari woke to a low hanging sun and a heavy head. despite the warnings he opened his eyes, then immediately shut them. though blurry and out of sequence, the master ranger was able to piece together the majority of his last coherency.

he’d been experimenting with the effects of the moonshade mushrooms. there had been reports of unaware travellers losing consciousness in the middle of the forest and waking in a fevered state. naturally, he’d taken it upon himself to test the outcome in order to properly assign warning labels in his next publication.

the initial bout of slumber had been brief, broken by a wave of nausea and the sensation of his body overheating itself. he then recalled umm stripping away his uniform in order to help him cool down.

and then there was you.

he remembered the sound of your concern and the inkling of berating though he couldn't exactly call back the wording. he was sure to get an encore either way; well deserved.

there was a gaping absence in his recollection, but the sensation of your hand settled between the space of his ears hadn’t escaped him. when had he gotten bold enough to daringly reach out like that? sure you’d done the same on multiple occasions but it had been in pursuit of a singular goal while he—

tighnari stared at the leaf drawn entrance of his chamber, face burning.

but surely that could not have all occurred before noon.

“oh good you’re awake. that mushroom managed to down even you for a full day. it's certainly something to be aware of.”

the elderly woman peered briefly through the cut of the door before granting herself entrance. tighnari sat obediently still as she flittered over his vital signs, ensuring his temperature and heart rate were within agreeable boundaries.

she scribbled the notes like clockwork into the parchment on his desk. while his methods weren’t often agreed upon, umm saw the value in the repercussions. her diligence had help assist in multiple breakthroughs. tighnari would be sure to deliver a nice basket of her favourite tree sap candies once he was back in working order.

amir would have certainly taken initiative to oversee assignments for the day. he would certainly owe collei a visit as well to assure her fears. he vaguely remembered her putting up a fuss when he’d been carried in, shortly before she’d been directed out leading to her alerting you.

tighnari’s cheeks grew hot again. he refused to acknowledge the rising blush even as umm chuckled quietly while gathering up her kit. instead, he kept his eyes on the entrance as he pinned his sashes in place and equipped his vision.

it wasn’t as if the two of you weren’t already rather close. it was safe to say he gave you more allowances than most. sure, your futile attempts to touch his ears could be frustrating at times, but more so because of the opportunities you took than the actual actions.

despite popular belief, tighnari didn’t truly hold his ears in that high regard. it was more out of proprietary that he shied away from strangers acting out of curiosity. to be honest, he really wouldn’t mind too much if a ranger asked to pet them. but it seems as if their own misconceptions had fed into the unspoken rule that his fox-like features were out of the question.

except for you.

over time, the two of you managed to lapse into a comfortable game of cat and mouse. tighnari knew if he’d shown any true signs of anger you would have backed away from the start. but his tolerance had permitted you to try again and again.

so what if the occasional punishments he placed on you deterred the others, it never snuffed your fire and that was all that mattered to him.

it was only natural that over time constant exposure would ignite his own interest. he could recall with vivid memory the way it felt to have you pressed against his back that time in the forest when you attempted to claim your prize in the middle of his lecture. he’d made you wait there while he finished the lesson, all the while relishing in the heat permitted his back.

had it been just the two of you, he would have let you.

yet when he finally caved and gave you the permission you'd been seeking all this time, you’d backed out.

‘next time’ you’d promised.

“if you’re done laminating, once you've finished eating you can go find them. i believe i saw them returning not long before i came here.”

umm didn’t wait for a response as she saw herself out, her amusement audible even as she descended the ramp to her own domain.

tighnari didn’t rush the act as he finished his meal and the provided water. once he finished, his lips turned at the dimming sunlight. his schedule was all but thrown out the window for the day, though he doubted anyone expected him to contribute much. still it stung his consciousness as a leader to leave his subordinates hanging , even if they were all self-sufficient adults. at least the headache had disappeared with proper nourishment. there would be time to salvage his routine later.

the sun was positioned late in the afternoon, but the dim light still irritated his eyes. he blinked through the sting as he welcomed the sight of the quaint village operating adequately in his absence.

he returned any passing waves and gave brief responses to their questions. for the most part everyone seemed confident that he’d make a full recovery, though he still harboured the guilt of worrying them.

brow pinched, he waved nasrin closer. “have you seen collei?”

the purse of her mouth didn’t spell anything good. tighnari hoped her illness had not acted up in his absence. “she had trouble sleeping last night so someone swapped patrols with her. she just set off not too long ago.”

the girl sometimes had trouble sleeping when plagued with anxiousness. tighnari settled that he would confront her upon her return, for now he had one more stop. he had a feeling he knew who offered to adjust their schedule to accommodate the girl.

he found your bungalow with practised ease, delivering a single knock before you offered entrance. he found you seated at your desk, no doubt detailing the report of your finding before submission. it was a relief to see that you took a break from your typical mischievousness to conduct a seemingly uniform patrol while he was indisposed.

“i don't suppose you came across any new interesting flora on your patrols?”

tighnari watched as your shoulders stiffened at the unexpected sound of his voice. your head whipped around, eyes assessing him carefully before you gave a timid, relieved smile.

“i think we can all agree that you’ve had enough adventures for one week,” you noted with light scolding.

grinning, tighnari cared little if his fangs showed, knowing you wouldn't find them threatening. your gaze followed him as he secured the leaves behind him before approaching your desk. he leaned comfortably against the wooden structure as he browsed the report. it had been routine indeed, not a single withering sighting.

“are you sure you’re alright? you had me worried for a bit.”

tighnari’s brow rose,” only a bit?”

scoffing, you rolled your eyes,” it’s not the worst thing you’ve eaten but seeing you down for so long was concerning. collei will be relieved to see you back on your feet.”

tighnari braceed his palm against the dest and leaned into the posture,“and you?”

“i owe you a scolding. you always get onto me about being aware and careful of my surroundings. yet here you go testing unknown fungi alone in the forest. at least bring it back before you test it out so we can be there if you need us.”

tighnari waited for you to finish, eyes shining with thinly veiled amusement. you seemed to recognize it as well, huffing as you realised your scolding didn't have as much weight as the seasoned scholar.

unable to resist, the fox reached out to run is fingers along the side of your face before letting them rest against your shoulder. he watched as your chest expanded to take in the small gasp of surprise. it was a rare moment for him to initiate contact like this, especially given the recent occurrence only yesterday. while his recollection was misty, yours was clear as day.

“i think you owe me something else too.”

tighnari watched your reactions carefully, from the flutter of your lashes to the rapid thrum of your heart beat against the pulse under your jaw. he never shied away from a discovery the promise of a satisfying understanding driving him from one revelation to the next.

admittedly, you’d been a gradual observation. the question at the tip of the scale all this time while he’d unknowingly researched you thoroughly with each new interaction. day and day again, you prompted him with new variables both under his control and not. it was only today that he managed to form a working hypothesis. a hesitant theory that he knew would shift everything.

tighnari watched with growing fascination as the initial shock meddling into purposefulness as your hand came into view. impatient, he couldn't resist ducking his hand to meet you halfway. the first careful touch was equally inquisitive and hesitant. each time in the past, your hand had darted out with such certainty. yet now with it all willing at your fingertips, you allowed yourself the time to explore.

he hadn’t realised his head had come to rest against your collar bone until he felt the rumbled of your laughter. you didn’t simply just touch his ears, you caressed the length form the widest part to the tip. your fingertips tickled the tufts of fluff at the base. and the light scratched you delivered against the firm cartilage had him all but melting into your hold. the burst of new stimuli tickled his nerves and left pleasant sensations.

later he would analyse the data but he was already certain about his conclusion.

your words mussed the top of his head as you spoke, humour bleeding into your intrigue. “can’t believe it took you a year to crack, tigh.”

tighnari sagged further at the uttering of the name. you flinched, not expecting the words of response to be mumbled into your skin. gratefully, it didn't cause you to pause.

“what was that?”

your touch slid from his ears to the curve of his jaw as his head rose to meet your gaze.

“i actually had two hypotheses I wanted to test.”

though he didn't speak more than that, he could tell you were well aware of the implications. your lips parted to respond, but no words could pass the lump in your throat. tighnari tested the waters, leaning closer enough to brush the tup of his nose against yours. when you didn't pull away, he leaned down and pressed your lips together, firmly but briefly. as he breathed in deeply, the smell of lush forestry, sweet flora and you invaded his scenes. the scent of familiarity minding with the aroma of what he called home was intoxicating.

your eyes shone bright with mischief as tighnari pulled away, no doubt observing the rosy hue spreading across his face.

“i think we need to experiment a little more before we can come to a confident conclusion.”

tighnari leaned back in and nuzzled you affectionately.

“i agree.’’

tagging upon request: @lott-the-otter @uhohitsemmy

#tighnari genshin #tighnari x reader #genshin impact imagine #tighnari imagine #genshin impact x reader

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